Too Close For Comfort
by Samantha14
Summary: What if the scene in Kyle's bedroom during Keg! Max! had gone differently? This story tackles that question, and then continues through the end of season three and beyond. Rory POV. Completed.
1. Key! Sex!

Title: Too Close for Comfort

Chapter One: Key! Sex!

Time: The bedroom scene of Keg! Max! and on. 

Story: The bedroom scene goes a little differently, thereby affecting the rest of the season. Sort of a "Frequency" idea.

Author's Note: Yeah, I'm starting another story. Yeah, I've got about twenty more I need to write. What's it to ya, punk?

Sorry. Please read.

++++++++

I slowly walked upstairs, trailing my hand along the banister. I hadn't seen Jess for a few minutes, since before Lane's band had taken a break. Young Chui had said he'd seen Jess head upstairs, so there I was, making my way upstairs, always the dutiful girlfriend. I sighed as I reached the second floor landing. It seemed like our relationship was slowly falling apart, and I hated it. It was the same thing that had happened with Dean, except it was happening so rapidly, I felt like I'd only had six weeks with Jess, at the very most. It really wasn't enough, and I hoped I could hang onto him for just a little longer.

The second door I leaned on opened slowly, and there was Jess, standing in the middle of the dark bedroom. I smiled and made my way over to him.

"There you are."

"Hey," he greeted me.

"I've been looking all over for you."

Jess shrugged. "Just got tired of everything down there."

Suddenly remembering where we were, I glanced around us. "Are we allowed to be up here? I mean, Kyle was kind of discouraging it."

Jess shrugged again. "When you have a party, you get what you get."

"Yeah, I guess," I muttered. I looked a little closer at Jess. His head was down, his hands shoved in his pockets. His sad pose. "Sad boy, what's wrong?" I ran the back of my hand across his cheek. "You were looking forward to this party, what happened?" 

"Nothing," Jess said moodily. 

"Something did. Come on, tell me." I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his lips gently. "You're not tired of me, are you?"

In response, Jess wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. 

"That's a pretty good answer," I said breathlessly when we separated. Jess didn't say anything, just leaned into me again, this time backing me up towards the bed. We slowly tumbled onto it, scarcely breaking contact. I reached behind me and tried to angle myself more towards the pillows. Seconds before my head hit them, Jess detached and tried to undo my belt buckle.

"This is poking me," he muttered. I reached down and pulled my key from the buckle. I set it on the bedside table and pulled him towards me. He used his hand to pull my belt from around my waist and drop it on the floor. I grinned, and to retaliate, started unbuttoning his shirt. He started kissing my neck, leaning so my hands were crushed beneath him. I giggled, and pushed him from my neck. For just a second, we stared into each other's eyes, and then he dove onto my lips again. 

++++++++

Half an hour later, my eyes were starting to close. Jess had his arm wrapped around my bare waist, his head buried in my hair. His breathing was deep and regular, and mine was in sync. My eyes fluttered…I was drifting off. A thought hit me and they popped back open. 

"Oh, my God," I muttered, sitting straight up. "Oh, my God!"

"Rory?" Jess murmured, lifting his head. 

"Oh, my God!" I jumped off the bed and started searching through the pile of clothes on the floor.

 "Jeez!" Jess yelled when the fist pair of jeans flew back and hit him on the head. 

"Oh, my God!" I paused briefly to yell back at him. 

"What's wrong?" Jess asked, sitting up.

"Someone could've walked in that door."

"And Santa Claus could come down the chimney, whatever," Jess said flippantly. 

"Oh, I cannot believe it happened like this!" I muttered, standing to put on my bra and underwear. 

"Like what?" Jess asked.

"This…_this_! In someone else's bedroom, someone else's house, with my best friend and ex-boyfriend right downstairs!" I stopped while putting on my jeans. "Omigod," I breathed. "The music's stopped."

Jess cocked his head to the side. "That it is," he said, slowly emerging from under the covers.

"Oh, my mother's going to kill me!"  I hurriedly buttoned my jeans and wrestled myself into my shirt. Halfway through, I got stuck. "I hate this thing," I muttered, annoyed and stressed.

Jess, only missing his shirt now, walked over to me and gently tugged on the shirt until it was settled perfectly on my body.

"There," he said softly, leaving his hands resting on my hips.  

"Thank you," I smiled.  

"You're welcome," he nodded, and then pulled his hands back to pick up his shirt. 

I glanced around for my jacket; it was lying on the nightstand. I pulled it towards me, and then flipped it around to put it on. I didn't realize that my move had dropped my house key on the floor, underneath the bed, until later. I waited for Jess to put on his own jacket, and then we left the bedroom together. 

Walking with our arms around each other's waists impeded out movement, but we made it down the stairs. As we reached the bottom landing, we could hear a faint siren in the background. Exiting the practically empty house, the first person I saw was my best friend. 

"Lane!" I called, running over to her. She was sprawled on the ground next to the bushes, tiny bits of vomit in her hair. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

Panting, Lane shook her head. I slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her up. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Okay," Lane groaned, leaning into me. I caught Jess's eye as we walked past him; he smiled, and nodded, and walked the other way back home. 

++++++++

Half a block from Kim's Antiques, I stopped and helped Lane onto a bench. Lane sat down gratefully and sighed.

"That was stupid."

"Just a little," I agreed, sitting next to Lane.

"I…called my mom," she admitted sheepishly.

"What?"

Lane nodded.

"That's bad."

"Oh, yeah-huh." Lane nodded again.

"Well…what'd you say? Maybe it's not that bad."

"Oh, it's bad. I said I was at a party, playing rock music, drinking beer. I called our band the Who."

"When you're really the Whoevers," I said without thinking about it.

"Yeah." Lane started to nod, and then paused. "Yeah! That's an awesome name! 'The Whoevers'. I love it! I'll tell the guys."

"Okay. Be sure to credit me."

"Or let them think I came up with it in my drunken stupor? Yeah, I'll credit you."

"Good. Is that all?"

"All of what?" Lane asked, confused. For a second, I'd forgotten she was drunk.

"All of what you said."

"Oh, no. I told her I was in love with Dave."

"Aw. Sweet."

"I don't think she'll see it that way." 

"Well…just know that he loves you too. He does, right?" I asked quickly.

"Yeah," Lane said dreamily. "He does."

I took this as my cue. It was now or never. "Um, guess what?"

"What?"

"Uh, tonight, Jess and I…we…had sex." 

"No! Oh, my God. Are you gonna tell Lorelai?"

"Oh, I don't know. She might kill me."

"She'll kill you more if she finds out you kept it from her."

"Yeah, that's true," I said thoughtfully, then shook my head. "Whatever. I'll think about it. Right now, it's time to get you home."

"Okay," Lane said as we stood. "Wait. Why don't you go ahead and leave me to Mama alone."

"You sure?"

Lane nodded.

"Okay. I should go ahead and get home…anyway." I trailed off as I remembered something. "OH MY GOD!" 

"What?"

"My key! My belt!" I left them upstairs?"

"Upstairs?"

"Upstairs at the party! Oh my God!"

"Oh my God," Lane yelled.

"Oh my God!" we screamed in unison.

"What're you gonna do? Lorelai'll know!"

"Ugh, I know! What'm I gonna do? What am I going to do?" I sank onto the bench. 

"I know!" Lane said suddenly.

"What?" I asked, springing back up with the feel of hope.

"Okay, you go back to your house, and you hide in the buses, and right after Lorelai comes home, pretend like you're just getting home. You can ask about the meeting, and make sure to distract her so she doesn't notice you don't have a key."

"Oh, that's good."

"Thank you," Lane smiled.

"Oh, wait. What if she's already home?"

"Uh…sneak into your room, then find a door she's not looking at, slam it, and yell, 'I'm home!'" 

"Very good," I nodded. "I think that'll work."

"Glad to be of help." 

"Very good help, too." I wrapped Lane in a quick hug, and then we separated and went our different ways.

++++++++

The plan was very good, but unfortunately, there was one variable we hadn't thought of. 

I walked up just as Mom was getting out of the Jeep. She spotted me over the large box she was hauling up the porch steps. 

"Hey, babe. Just getting home?"

"Yeah," I said a bit warily, eyeing the box and wishing desperately for pockets.

"You have a good time?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "It was great."

"How was Lane's band? Was it fun being a groupie?"

"Just wonderful. I had to fight with Young Chui over her, though."

Mom tried to shrug, but the box was hindering her movements. Instead, she nodded toward the door.

"Key?"

Mentally cursing, I reached for the key I knew wasn't there. I inhaled sharply and braced myself, getting ready to lie.

"Oh, no!"

"What? What is it?" Mom asked, worried.

"I stopped at Lane's house and dropped her off, and I used her bathroom, and I think I must have left my key there."

"Oh. Okay. Well, get my key from my purse and you'll have to get yours tomorrow."

"Okay." I pulled Mom's purse from her hand, dug for her key, and unlocked the door. Closing it behind us, I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered. "Very, very stupid." 

"What?" Mom asked, heading from the kitchen to the living room. 

"It was stupid of me to leave my key."

Mom shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's easy enough to get it." She smiled.

"Yeah." 

Mom must have read the worry on my face, because her smile faltered. "Hey, you look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep."

I smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm just tired. Okay. Goodnight, Mom." I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"'Night, babe." 

I smiled again as I walked away, and then shut the door to my room as I entered.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God." I pulled a pillow from the head of my bed and curled around it. "That was _way_ too close." I took a deep breath.


	2. Say Goodbye, Rory

Title: Too Close for Comfort

Chapter Two: Say Goodbye, Rory

Time: The morning after Keg! Max! Basically, the timeline of Say Goodnight, Gracie.

++++++++

"Good morning!" I greeted my mother with a cup of coffee the second she came into the kitchen the next morning. I think I was feeling a little guilty for the lie the night before.

"Hey, sweets." Mom half-groaned as she pulled the coffee from my hands. "Aw, nice." She took a long sip and then settled her gaze on me. "What're you doing today?"

I shrugged. "Recovering." 

Mom smiled and took another sip. "Does recovering involve getting your belt and key back from Lane's?"

"Oh, yeah!" I said like it was the first I'd thought about it. "I'm gonna call her." I got up from the table and walked into the living room, where I'd seen the phone the night before. I quickly called Lane, and conducted a hushed conversation in the corner of the room near the window. Two minutes later, I made my way back to the kitchen and smiled at Mom. "I'm gonna go get her backpack from Kyle's house, then run by and get my belt and key. Uh…come with?" I added the last part only so my mom would think I was still behaving normally. Which I was. For the most part. 

++++++++

"Key, belt, key, belt, key, belt, key, belt," I murmured, searching through the rumpled bedclothes on the floor of Kyle's guestroom. An older woman—Kyle's mother, I was guessing—passed by the doorway, her eyebrows raised at me. I smiled a tight smile, and she looked away, obviously ashamed for me. I groaned, and then grinned when my hand wrapped around my key. "Yes!" Right next to it was my belt, which I quickly slid into my belt loops before standing and leaving the room. I found Lane's backpack right where she said I would; I was about to slide it on when I noticed the smell…I then decided to carry it out of the house holding it as far away from my nose as I could.

Kyle and his friend were arguing in the front yard as I walked up to my mom.

"Have you seen these guys? They're hilarious!"

Ready to get rid of Lane's backpack, I said, "I got it, we can go."

"Why are you holding it like that?" Mom asked suspiciously.

"Because, when Lane left it here last night, it was a very different color. And smell."

Mom made a face. "Are you sure she's gonna want that back? It's been left alone. All night. At a keg party. There's no getting over that. That backpack is permanently scarred." Getting even more into it, she added with a tiny smile, "That backpack is Zelda Fitzgerald."

Going along with her, I said, "Well, Zelda's going home."

"Okay." Mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "Your first cop-raided party. I am just so proud!"

"Mom," I protested, feeling badly. 

"I just wish I could've been there."

I made a face, hoping Mom couldn't see me. "It was no big deal," I said aloud, dismissing it. 

"Hmm." 

Thank God, the next thing we did was split up around the Church of Stars Hollow, where Lane had told me she'd be almost all day long. Mom went off to work, and I headed into the Church, still holding Lane's backpack as far in front of me as I could.

"Hey," I said quietly, settling into the seat next to Lane. She was sitting at a table in the back of the church, doing…well, I don't know what she was doing, but she was sitting in church. Ever since I was young, Mom always taught me that while you're sitting in church, if you're going to be talking about non-church related things, you should talk quietly.

"Hi," Lane grinned.

"So, how are you? How were things last night?"

"You mean, after my drunken call to my mother?"

"That's the one," I nodded. "What happened after I dropped you off?"

"I'm…not sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" I didn't think she was_ that_ drunk.

"Well, after I sent you home, I walked the last block to my house and went in."

"And?" I asked, after a long enough pause.

"The place was dark." 

"No Mrs. Kim?" I asked, surprised.

"No Mrs. Kim." Lane shook her head.

I shook my own head. "No Mrs. Kim."

"So, of course, I panicked."

I nodded. 

"What does this mean," Lane continued. "I mean, when I come home ten minutes late from bible study, she has a cow. But I call her drunk, tell her I'm at a part, I'm a drummer in a band, and I'm in love with a non-Korean…I expected there to be backup—aunts, uncles, cousins pulled out of villages I've never heard of—but nothing."

"That's so weird. I don't understand."

"Me neither!" Lane exclaimed. The priest heard and glanced back at her. She blushed, and then ducked her head and continued quietly, "So I go upstairs to make sure everything's okay. I look in her room, and she's in her bed. Asleep."

"No!" I exclaimed quietly.

Lane nodded. "Then, this morning, I get up, I go in the kitchen where she's making breakfast, and I say, 'Good morning, Mama'." 

"And?" 

"She turns around, looks right at me, and says, 'Good morning, Lane'." 

"Really?" I asked, surprised. That didn't seem very Mrs. Kim-like.

"And those were the last words she's said to me all day." 

"Huh. That's…weird. She's freezing you out?"

"No, I think it's more Stepford than cold." 

"Hmm. We'll have to ruminate on this more later. I think I'm gonna go see Jess." 

"Okay. Have fun."

"Okay," I stood to go. Lane grabbed my wrist.

"Hey, what's that smell?"

"Your backpack," I said apologetically. 

"Oh. Okay. Bye." She released my arm and waved. 

"Bye," I whispered, before ducking out of the church. 

++++++++

Luke's was incredibly crowded. When I walked in, Jess was at a table in the corner, arguing with a guy just sitting there. He was so agitated, he didn't notice me as I settled into the only empty seat at the counter. Caesar, setting a plate out for Jess, noticed me and waved. I waved back.

"You know what you want yet?" Jess practically yelled.

"Uh, I'll just have more coffee," the guy said.

"More coffee coming up. Glad to make your dining dreams come true." I could hear the biting sarcasm in his voice, and I just smiled. He left the guy at the table and swiftly picked up the coffee pot from the end of the counter. He continued on his way, still not seeing me. 

Suddenly, Taylor, dressed in a turn-of-the-century pastel outfit—like Dick Van Dyke during the cartoon sequence of _Mary Poppins_—burst into the diner door and started singing the Candy Man song from _Willy Wonka_. 

Jess, unimpressed, simply said, "Move." 

Taylor deferred, instead instructing one of the old-timey dressed women he'd brought with him to give Jess a taffy. Jess declined, and then pushed past Taylor to continue pouring coffee. Finally, he walked behind the counter again, set the coffee pot down, and turned around. He saw me, started, and then smiled.

"Hey," he said, leaning down to kiss me.

"Hey," I repeated, pushing from my stool a little to meet him halfway. 

"Did you guys get home okay?" 

"Yeah," I smiled. "Thanks for being so understanding." 

He shook his head. "I didn't do anything."

"Well…thanks for being you."

He smiled. "And with _that_ line, you're officially cut off from any and all WB dramas you are currently watching."

"Aw, but _Dawson_'s almost over!"

He smiled, but his eyes flicked towards the door as the bell rang. His smile changed to a scowl and he quickly walked out from behind the counter. "Be right back." 

I turned in my seat and watched as Jess walked over to Luke. He started yelling at him, and then Luke started yelling right back. After a minute, Luke glanced at me, and sighed, defeated. 

"Fine. Take a break. I want you back here in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks a lot, Uncle Luke," Jess said, unnecessarily annoying Luke even more. He wandered over to me and grabbed my hand. 

"Wanna go upstairs?" I asked as he opened his mouth, beating him to the punch.

"Sure," he grinned. His hand slipped from mine to around my waist as we walked the short distance to the stairs; before ducking under the curtain, I caught Luke's eye and mouthed, "Thanks." 

He nodded and continued whatever it was he was doing. 

++++++++

Jess started kissing me the second we reached the top of the stairs. That caused a little bit of trouble actually making it through the door, let me tell you. Jess pushed me against the door, and I was fumbling for the doorknob behind me, all while not letting go. After a few minutes, I just started giggling, which caused Jess to grin, and then suddenly we fell through the door. 

We landed on the floor with a loud _thump!_ Jess landed on top of me, which wasn't all that comfortable, but I managed to roll us around so I was on top. Then I slowly started easing us up. We eventually made it to a standing position, but we didn't stay that way for long. Jess pushed me backwards onto the couch, and we ended up in a reclining position. 

Jess reached his hand underneath him. Since I was _sans _belt, he started to unbutton my jeans. After he'd succeeded there, he reached for the zipper, and I started to push him off me.

"Jess, wait." 

He took his hand from my jeans. Satisfied, he wasn't going to pursue it any further, I let it go. 

Until he reached for my shirt.

"_Jess_. Wait." 

He didn't stop, so I jumped up from the couch, pushing him away and off of me.

"Jeez," he complained, standing too.

"Not here. Not now." I shook my head.

"Fine," he said, throwing his hand in the air, keeping his back towards me.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I asked. He was acting so weirdly.

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"Someone could have walked through that door," I said, pointing. "Luke could have walked through that door. Or, God forbid, my _mother_." 

He muttered some comment. He was still facing away from me, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. 

"What?" I asked sharply.

"Whatever," he shot at me, before turning away again.

"You did _not _think it was gonna happen again so soon, did you? We haven't even talked about it yet." 

"I don't know _what_ I think anymore." He sounded so sad. I walked over to him; put my hand on his shoulder.

"Jess," I said, softly.

"Rory, stop, just stop!" he yelled, wrenching his arm away from me. He finally faced me, but kept his gaze on the floor. He continued angrily. "I did _not_ invite you upstairs last night! I did _not_ tell you to take of your clothes! I did _not _tell you to have sex with me! You did it all on your own!"

My heart was beating rapidly. Was Jess yelling at me for last night? Had he hated it? Was it not supposed to happen? My eyes started stinging. After a few seconds, I finally wrenched out, "I…I don't know…what I did," before turning and leaving the room. 

Jess sighed as my hand hit the doorknob and I threw it open. "You didn't do anything. Rory…," he half-heartedly called. I ignored him and continued down the stairs, my tears making the pattern on the curtain all blurry. I pushed past it and into the slowly-emptying diner, running directly into Luke.

"Rory. Are…you okay?" he asked hesitantly, most likely scared of my crying. 

"Yes. No. I don't know," I managed, before pushing past him and out the door. 

"Whoa. What happened?" he called after me. I noticed as the door closed that when Jess came downstairs, to follow me, Luke muttered, "Figures," and then held his arm in front of Jess. "Upstairs. You and I need to talk." 

Jess threw one last glance at me—causing me to turn away quickly—before being pushed back upstairs by Luke. 

++++++++

After our fight, I walked home crying. Thank God, Mom was upstairs, because I don't think I could have handled talking to her. Fortunately, I quickly got a call to take my mind off of everything.

"Gilmore, get down here now."

"Paris?" I asked tentatively.

"We're completely behind on the graduation edition of the Franklin. This is going to be our last edition. _Ever_. This is going to be the issue of the paper everyone will remember us by. This is going to be the issue of the paper that the _Yale Daily News _will look at to see if we're worthy enough. Rory, I'm freaking out!"

"Okay, calm down. When do you want me there?"

"Anytime after now would be good."

"All right, just give me…an hour," I said, glancing at the clock.

"Don't expect to get out of here anytime before nine."

Paris hung up briskly, allowing me to start glancing around the living room for everything I needed for this, my last issue of the Franklin. Before long, Mom came downstairs, carrying six or seven skirts over one arm.

"Okay, here's the problem. Every single one of my skirts," she said, laying her skirts one by one on the couch, "is either too long or too short for this season's acceptable lengths. Which means, I either have to alter or shop."

I glanced up at her from my backpack. "To be or not to be." 

Trying not to smile, she retaliated with, "Just wait 'til you hear what InStyle thinks of you, young lady." Finally noticing what I was doing, she asked, "Franklin meeting, huh? What time are you getting home tonight?"

"Well, we have to go over the special graduation edition of the Franklin, and of course we're 'completely behind', partly because Paris can't let anything go to print unless she's proofed it a million times. Can you say, 'crazy anal micromanager'?" 

"Not five times fast." 

I smiled at her and answered her question. "I'll be home by ten." I stood up and slid one backpack strap over my shoulder. 

"That's all I needed to know," Mom smiled as I walked past her.

"Oh, shoot," I said, stopping. "I forgot my notes." 

"I put them in your bedroom."

"Thank you, Mom." I smiled again and turned around, heading back to my room. Unfortunately, my mom's idea of putting my notes in my room consisted of throwing them on top of the thousands of papers I had strewn on my desk. Halfway through searching through the first of dozens of stacks, the phone rang, and my mom yelled, "It's for you!" 

After picking it up, I discovered my grandmother was on the phone…and I didn't get out of the house for forty minutes. 

++++++++

After spending a relatively uneventful few hours working on my very last issue of the Franklin…_ever_, I got home to my mom, teary-eyed, on the couch. She told me, quickly and tearfully, that Fran Weston…_Fran_…had died. 

++++++++

The next day, dressed in our best black attire, Mom and I were walking to the church for the funeral. I, unfortunately, was wearing my only coat that was suited for the weather. It happened to be bright red, but I thought maybe Fran wouldn't mind. 

"You know," Mom said suddenly, "Fran was one of the first people I met when we moved here." 

Because she'd been telling the same Fran stories over and over for the past twelve hours, I said, "I know."

"The first day here, I stopped in—"

"And asked her for directions to the inn," I finished. Seriously. The same three stories. Over and over.

"Yeah. Oh, she was so sweet. And, oh my God…." And she was off. I'm sorry to say I kind of tuned her out, because, well, the _same three stories_. Instead, I was thinking over that fight Jess and I had had. Was it even a fight? I seriously couldn't tell. I figured I should visit him and see if maybe we could talk. Something was obviously bothering him, and I didn't…well, I didn't want him to be mad at me for prom. You could only buy tickets for so much longer, and I knew he hadn't gotten them yet. 

"'I'm gonna kill you.'" Mom finished her story happily. She smiled, and squeezed my shoulders. 

"Mom, can I just meet you at the church?"

"Why, what are you planning? Is it finally payback time?" She grinned at her own little joke. 

"No," I responded, desperately trying to think of something, "I just need to stop in at Doose's and get something. Kleenex! We'll need Kleenex."

Mom, obviously still not over her someone-died-we-must-be-inseparable phase, said, "Aw, I'll come with you." 

_Shit! _I thought. Aloud, I said, "Um, well…." So very articulate.

Luckily, kinda, we stumbled across Miss Patty, sitting on a bench, bawling her eyes out. Mom started to comfort her, and after a minute she allowed me to run off. Thanking Miss Patty silently, I rushed off, heading for Luke's diner. 

I made it all the way to the steps before stopping myself. _Maybe he just needs space,_ I thought, heading back down the sidewalk. _No, we need to talk about this_, I told myself, steeling my nerves and making it up to the door. I put my hand on the door, to push it open, but talked myself out of it again. I turned and ran from the diner, and didn't look back. 

++++++++

After the funeral, my mother and Sookie decided they needed to get a head start on buying Fran's inn directly out from underneath her casket. When they asked if I wanted to edge to the front of the line, near the lawyer pallbearer with them, I politely declined, saying, "No, you guys go ahead. I'll be in the back of the line so that when the earth opens up and swallows you whole into hell, I'll be here to tell a story."

My mom, who, if possible, was practically persuaded to pursue the inn after that, just said, "Okay," and walked off. 

Walking out of the church, I somehow got roped into a conversation with Dean. My ex-boyfriend Dean. Who was dating Lindsay, who was much meaner in twelfth grade then she was in fourth grade, when she loaned me that money for the Mark Twain magnet. Lindsay, whose favorite singer was Michelle Branch. Yeah, that Dean.

"Hey, Rory," he said as he walked up to me, all tall and nonchalantly-like.

"Oh, hey," I responded, friendly. "You were in there?" Silently, I added, _Not that I could notice, because my mother and her best friend were too busy working on their custom apartments in hell_. 

"…hung in the back," Dean finished. 

I nodded like I knew what he'd said, and added, "It was nice of you to come." 

"Well, she was a nice lady," he said, a bit awkwardly.

"Yeah, she was," I said, even more awkwardly.

"Listen, uh," Dean glanced around us at the people still streaming from the church, "can I talk to you for a sec? We'll catch up, I promise," he added, pointing to the line of people following Fran. 

Not having anything else to say, I said, "Sure."

"Good." Dean led me two feet away from everyone else, and then started, "Okay, um…."

Wow. He was almost as articulate as me. "What?"

"Uh, are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready," I said, 'cause I can be really stupid sometimes. 

Dean blurted out, "I asked Lindsay to marry me." 

I stuttered. 

"And she said yes."

I stuttered more.

"So what do you think?"

I think I said 'uh' that time around.

"I know, who woulda thought? I mean, it's weird, but Lindsay's amazing and I asked and she said yes, so…I'm getting married."

There was a rushing noise in my ears. I kinda shook my head and poked my ear, trying to get it to stop. Dean was getting married. DEAN._ DEAN_. **_DEAN_**. 

I think there was more to the conversation, but I don't remember much. All I know is, Dean was getting married. To Lindsay, his third girlfriend. Whom he hadn't known for more than three years. And only six months after breaking up with me!

The last thing I do remember, however, was Dean walking off, mad, while I yelled at him, "Jess does not treat me like dirt!"

++++++++

Later, after dinner and our walk around the town square, Mom and I were walking back to our car, this time in dark. 

"I was negotiating at a funeral," Mom said, and thank God, she sounded remorseful. Maybe her apartment in hell wouldn't be _that _hot. 

"I saw."

"Which might've been the most inappropriate thing to happen today, until that gnat flew into Kirk's mouth and he freaked and dropped the casket."

"It was a nice save," I said, referring to the way that Mom's not _that_ hot hell apartment might be stocked with some kind of coffee substitute. 

"I'm feeling so weird," Mom continued. "I'm completely sad about Fran, but the inn…it's really gonna happen."

"Looks like it," I said, almost smiling. Maybe the inn would look nice in a picture on the wall of Mom's hell apartment.

"Hey, come here," Mom, the queen of non-segues, steered me over to a closed dress store. There was a red prom dress in the window. Suddenly I didn't wanna talk anymore. I just wanted to go home, and maybe think more about Mom's hell apartment, because that was keeping my mind off other things.

"That one would look great on you," Mom said, pointing towards it.

"Oh, I don't know," I said quickly, hoping to avoid this conversation.

"We should come back tomorrow and try it on," Mom said happily. She was so looking forward to prom; she hadn't had her own, because of me.

"Maybe."

"Hey, prom's coming up, kid. We need to get you a dress. Unless you want me to make you one?"

"No, that's okay."

"Hey, maybe we could hit the mall tomorrow after school," she started excitedly. "I could meet you in Hartford and we could go to a fancy store where they'll follow us around like we're thieves." She grinned. 

"I don't wanna talk about dresses anymore," I said, sounding exactly like a five-year-old.

"We've only been talking about dresses for two minutes," Mom said. And rightly so…we had. 

"Well, it feels like longer," I said stubbornly, turning away from the window.

"Rory," my mom said, now sounding a little worried. 

"And I don't know if I even need a dress, okay, 'cause I don't even know if I'm going to the prom," I finally blurted out.

"I thought Jess agreed," Mom said, confused.

"Well, that was before," I said simply.

"Before what?"

"Before the party, before all the fights, before the thing in Luke's apartment!" 

"Okay, come with me," Mom said, taking me by the wrist and leading me to the Jeep. After we both got in, she turned to me again and said, "Okay, we left off with the thing in Luke's apartment."

"I don't understand. One minute he's happy, then he's not. And he doesn't tell me anything ever. I mean, you're supposed to tell your girlfriend things. That's the whole point of having a girlfriend, isn't it?" Now that I'd started, everything came pouring out. I could tell this was going to be an award-worthy ramble. Or rant, depending on how you looked at it.

"Yes, it is. Now, Luke's apartment, what happened there?" Mom asked again. I ignored her, going too fast to stop.

"And I'm so tired of fighting. Or not even fighting because he won't fight. He just gets mad and disappears and then comes back and I don't like how I feel and I don't like what I do."

"Like what you do where, in Luke's apartment?"

"I don't wanna feel like this, I don't wanna sit around wondering when we're going to talk, if he's mad, why he's mad. I hate this. I really, really—"

"Honey," Mom yelled, "you gotta tell Mommy what happened in Luke's apartment!"

I sighed, and then decided to tell her. "Jess and I went up to Luke's apartment and we were kissing and then it seemed like he wanted to…." I trailed off, letting Mom's imagination finish the sentence. It did.

Her eyes were really big as she asked, "Did you?"

"No," I sighed, neglecting to mention _then_. "And then he got all weird like he was mad at me."

"Hey, if he was mad at you because you wouldn't have sex with him, then he's a jerk."

"I know that," I sighed again, "but I don't' even know if that's why he's mad at me. I don't know _if _he's mad at me. I don't know anything because he won't talk. He just sulks, then disappears, and just when you're through with him, he shows up at hockey games with Distillers tickets."

"Distillers tickets?" Mom asked, confused. "What Distillers tickets?"

"Oh, that's right," I started sarcastically—the sarcasm for me, of course, "you don't know about that because I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed because I didn't wanna be that girl and you don't want me to be that girl, but after the hockey game, I was that girl." 

"What girl? Help me, drag me along, honey," Mom pleaded. 

I exhaled. "The girl who lets her boyfriend treat her like dirt"—because it _was_ true, Jess _did _treat me like dirt—"and then lies to her mom about it."

"Okay, you need a breath here." 

I ignored her and continued, "Something's going on with him and it's been going on for awhile." 

"You can't make him talk, Rory," Mom said wisely. "He has to want to."

"But why doesn't he want to?" I asked, desperately. This was so hard.

"Because it's probably hard for him." Mom sighed, and just stared at me for a little while. "Honey…" she started.

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm just…tired." I curled up as much as I could and leaned into the car door. 

"Okay," Mom said quietly, starting the car and easing us back home.

++++++++

The next morning, I walked out of my room all dressed for school to the wonderful smell of coffee. There was actually food on the table, and it looked edible. I smiled.

"I thought I smelled coffee," I said, sitting across from my mom. 

She stood up and swept her arm over the food, Vanna-style. "Good morning, your highness. I trust you slept well."

"And to what do I owe this lovely display of domesticity?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee. 

"Well," Mom started, refilling her own cup, "being brilliant and all, I figured you would probably still not be in the mood to go to Luke's this morning, so I thought we'd have a nice little breakfast here."

"Wow, okay," I said, impressed. Of course, I knew what she'd done the second I took of bite of my pancakes. "Hey."

"Good?" Mom asked, smiling. She knew I'd figured it out.

"These are from Luke's," I told her. 

"What?" she asked innocently.

"You got up this morning, went to Luke's and brought this back."

"Well, I sure as hell am not gonna cook." 

I smiled. "They're good, thank you." 

"Put 'em on a plate just the way you like 'em," Mom smiled back. 

++++++++

Later that morning, as I got on the bus to school, I was only thinking of Dean, and the wedding announcement Mom and I had seen in the paper. Then, of course, the "bomb" was "dropped". 

All the people getting off the bus dispersed, and suddenly, like the parting of the Red Sea, I could see the back seat. And Jess. Wondering what he was doing on the bus to Hartford so early in the morning, I walked over to him.

"Hey," I said. 

"Hey," he repeated, not at all surprised to see me. 

"Can I sit?" I asked, seeing as we hadn't talked to each other since our fight.

"Uh, sure, sit." After I sat, he leaned towards me and said, "I thought you took an earlier bus."

"Oh, my first class got canceled today."

"Oh." He seemed a little disappointed, but bounced back. "So what's been going on?"

"Nothing much. Fran died." 

"I heard."

"I went to her funeral yesterday," I said, noticing a large duffel bag out of the corner of my eye. A very familiar large duffel bag.

"Luke went, too," Jess said.

"I saw him there," I nodded.

"Yeah?"

"He was in the back." 

Jess nodded for a minute before leaning towards me again. "I can't go to the prom." 

When I looked at him, he added, "I couldn't get tickets."

"Oh," I said quietly.

"Sorry," he said just as quietly.

The bus slowed down to a stop, and I stood up.

"This is my stop."

"Okay," Jess said simply.

"So…you'll call me?"

"Yeah, I'll call you." 

I turned to leave. After a few steps, Jess caught up to and grabbed my arm. I turned back towards him and he gave me a deep, deep kiss; deeper than any he'd ever given me before. It tasted sad…like a goodbye. 

With a tear in my eye I pecked him after we separated. 

"Goodbye," I whispered. 

He nodded, and settled back into his seat. 

Wishful thinking, I suppose, imagined the glistening in his own eye. 

He was gone. 


	3. There Go The Stars

Title: Too Close for Comfort

Chapter Three: There Go The Stars

Time: Timeline of 'Here Comes The Son', except two weeks later, 'cause it needs to be two weeks later. 

++++++++

"I hate final exams," I complained, dropping the books from my arms in a pile on Luke's counter. 

"I know," Jess retaliated, leaning over to kiss me quickly. 

"No, you don't understand," I continued, settling onto a stool. "I _abhor_ them. I abhor them with a passion." 

Jess chuckled, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. "Fine. You _abhor_ them. You still have to take them." 

Taking a page from my mother's book, I pouted. "Stop being the voice of reason." 

"_So_ sorry," he said, mock-seriously. "Didn't mean to _offend _you or anything." 

I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. "Are you coming to graduation?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he smiled back, before heading off with an order pad. I watched him for a minute, and then turned back to my books, prying open my Psychology book to Manic-Depressive Disorder. Jess was back in seconds, and he stopped to read over my shoulder, a habit he'd recently taken up, and I'd recently come to dislike. 

"Find anything interesting?" I asked. He shook his head, and continued behind the counter. 

"Nope. More coffee?"

"Please," I said, holding out my cup. 

Luke, coming down from the apartment, glanced at me and said in passing, "You shouldn't drink coffee when you're pregnant." 

Unsurprised, I glanced down and rubbed my hand over my barely protruding stomach. "Mom did it with me," I shrugged. 

"Ergo, the problem," Jess whispered, leaning in close to me. I grinned and threw an elbow into his chest as he went by. He laughed and continued on his way.

++++++++

I sat up slowly in bed, my dark room coming into focus around me. It took too long, it seemed, and so I blinked and then settled back against the pillows. The room tilted for just a second, as if someone taking a picture was playing with the focus on the camera. I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, light was seeping softly through the window, and it was a little after six. I got up slowly and dressed. 

++++++++

At least part of my dream had been true. I _do_ abhor final exams with a passion. Too much stress always messes me up. I don't sleep, I drink too much coffee, and my period goes all haywire, causing my moods to do the same. 

But still. The rest of the dream was wrong. Jess was gone, I was very decidedly _un_-pregnant, I, thank God, was not in Psychology, and…well, I wasn't in Luke's. Anyway, back to the exams. My real life. My life where Jess was gone, had been gone for two weeks, and most likely wouldn't be back anytime soon, especially not for graduation. 

This was my last year at Chilton, and consequently, my last exams. Somehow, those facts, combined with the fact that Jess was gone, made my last week of Chilton a living hell.

My mom, however, had yet to realize that Jess was gone, and that was the reason she was sneaking around our kitchen at seven in the morning. 

I, of course, had been up for hours, and was already dressed for school, with my books spread all across the kitchen table. I had gone into my room for another pack of note cards, and exited to find my mother trying to sneak water into the coffee maker quietly.

"Hey," I said, shooting her a weird look. Her body was all angles, and for some reason she was trying her hardest to not touch the counter at all, leaning very far over it just to pour water into the coffee maker. 

She threw her arms up, splashing water on the floor, and spun around quickly, startled. "Oh!" she said, the hand holding the now-empty coffee pot over her heart. "Oh, God, Rory, you scared me."

"Sorry," I said dismissively, walking past her back to my spot at the kitchen table. 

"I've been sneaking around here like an idiot trying not to wake you up," she said, walking back over to the sink to refill the coffee pot.

"I've been up for hours," I explained, flipping the pages in my calculus book. For just a second, the room went out of focus again, and I grabbed the sides of the table. It passed quickly. 

"Why?" Mom asked, turning from the sink. "Did you have a bad dream? Oh, the one where you finally meet Christiane Amanpour and she's really stupid?" Mom gave me a pitying look. 

"No, I just realized last night that at this rate, I will never finish all the work I have to do." 

"What work?" Mom asked. I realized, once again, that all this Inn stuff was freaking her out, and she was practically in her own little world. Wordlessly, I handed her my list of things I had to do. She glanced over it, nodded appreciatively, and handed it back.

Suddenly I groaned. "I can't finish all this and sleep too!" 

"You _have_ to sleep, it's what keeps you pretty," Mom explained, patting my head. 

"Who cares if I'm pretty if I fail my finals?"

Mom, still joking, said, "Okay, you've got this completely backwards." 

"I can't do this!" I yelled, standing up. 

"Oh, sweetie, yes you can," Mom said seriously, reaching to give me a hug. I wrenched from her grasp.

"Not right now," I said angrily, shoving my books haphazardly into my backpack. After that, I grabbed my notes in handfuls and dropped them on top of the books. When the table was clean, I knocked my backpack onto the floor. "I'm going to Luke's."

Mom realized when to leave me alone, and let me go by myself.

++++++++

The second I walked into Luke's, he glanced up and hurried over to me, ignoring the customer he was talking to.

"Hey," he said cautiously. "You doin' okay?"

I tried not to glare at him, but it was really hard. Finally, I just shook my head and clambered onto a stool at the counter. "Danish, coffee," I mumbled, propping my sleep-deprived head up on my two fists. 

"Still Jess?" he asked, leaning close to me. 

I shook my head again, but stopped quickly as it caused the room to spin slightly. "Just finals." 

He nodded, and then set my order in front of me. Before he could walk away from me, I cleared my throat. 

"Do you know where he is?" I asked quietly, picking up my coffee cup with two hands and staring at it.

He paused, and then nodded slowly. "Do you want to?"

"No. But thanks." I looked up, and smiled slightly. He smiled slightly back, and then walked off.

++++++++

After school that day, I was standing in the hallway listening to Louise and Madeline lament over the news about jean jackets—they were on the way out—when my cell phone rang. I shook myself out of my stupor and paused slightly as the room went out of focus at the sides.

"Hello?"  I answered quickly…and kind of rudely, seeing as I didn't excuse myself out of the conversation with Madeline and Louise…but I also didn't really care.

"Rory, you haven't returned my calls," my grandmother greeted me. Suddenly, I didn't feel so rude anymore.

"Oh, Grandma, I'm so sorry. I've been really busy."

"I don't care how busy you get, young lady, you have to call your grandmother back." Had Grandma ever called me 'young lady' before? It seemed such a grandmother-ly thing to do, I didn't think she had. She really wasn't that disapproving of me. 

"I'm sorry," I said simply, because what else could I say?

"I'm won't be around forever, you know," Grandma continued harshly. 

"I'm really sorry," I repeated. Inside my head, I was counting to ten. For some reason, that day I had a really short fuse, and Grandma's being unusually mean wasn't helping anything. Luckily, she suddenly switched moods, reminding me that I'd promised to head over to her house and help her pick out clothes for graduation. After I hung up with her, I called my mom and quickly explained to her where I was going, and asked her to please pick me up in an hour. After a quick attempt to talk me out of it, she agreed to stop by in an hour, and I quickly sped out of school.

++++++++

At Grandma's house, I met Miss Celine, my grandparents' fashion consultant, who quickly proclaimed me Sabrina, after Audrey Hepburn in the movie of the same title. She showed me off to Grandpa proudly as "just a waif with eyes". Grandma said I was even prettier, and then started bragging about Yale. Miss Celine said something about a whole new wardrobe, and then mentioned Jimmy Stewart's colonoscopy. 

I nodded along. Miss Celine was really neat and all, but still a little wacko. 

After an hour, Grandma and Grandpa were off trying on clothes, and Miss Celine was still talking to me about what I would need for my new Yale wardrobe.

"Now, Sabrina,"—oh, and she was still calling me Sabrina—"college is a very important time in a young girl's life. You need to be properly attired." 

"I know," I started, "but—"

"Trust me," Miss Celine interrupted, ignoring me, "a young girl is completely and solely judged by her appearance." I raised my eyebrows at that. She continued, "Now, I always start every wardrobe from the top. The hat. Remember, Sabrina, it's the first thing that God sees when you walk outside in the morning."

"Oh," I said, nodding solemnly.

"Well, I'm exhausted," Grandma proclaimed, walking down the stairs. "I feel as if I've tried on every dress in town." 

"So is it the blue?" I asked, leaning my head on the back of the couch to see Grandma. Also, I was kind of using the couch to keep the room steady. 

"Yes, I think it is the blue. I think it's quite suitable for my granddaughter's graduation," Grandma beamed. She looked so proud. 

"Hey," Mom said, walking into the room. She still had on her coat and still carried her purse, so it was obvious she was only here for a short time. "Hey, hon," she said to me, before turning to Grandma and saying, "Hey, Mom."

"What are you doing here?" Grandma asked rudely.

"I just came to pick Rory up." Mom finally noticed Miss Celine and greeted her with an astonished, "Miss Celine!" 

"Oh, my God, it's Natalie Wood!" Miss Celine exclaimed, standing to walk over to Mom. She held Mom's arms in front of her, turned to me and said, "Look Sabrina! It's Natalie Wood!" 

"Miss Celine, I can't believe it!" I responded, smiling at Mom.

Grandma, hardly paying attention to the conversation, suddenly said, "I left the suits upstairs. I'll go get them." 

"No, no, I'll get them. It's who I am, the keeper of the clothes." At the bottom of the stairs, Miss Celine turned back to Mom and said, "Delight to see you again."

"You too, Celine," Mom said with a smile. As soon as Miss Celine was out of earshot, Mom rushed over to me and said, "Oh my God, she was like a thousand when I was ten! I can't believe it!"

Trying to placate Grandma, I said, "Grandma picked out a beautiful blue dress for graduation."

"Aw, I'd like to see that, Mom." Thank God, Mom was being nice. 

"It needs to be altered," Grandma started icily, before being interrupted by the maid. 

"Dinner's ready, Mrs. Gilmore," she said. She was, of course, new, and had a thick Mexican accent. 

"No, it's not," Grandma said quickly.

"I just checked, and it's—" the maid continued.

"I just went in there ten minutes ago, and it still had another forty minutes to go." 

"But it's really brown, and—"

"Lupé, do not argue with me!" Grandma said sharply. The maid nodded meekly and left the room.

Astonished, Mom and I both turned to Grandma.

"Mom, it's seven o'clock," Mom said.

"So?" 

"That's your dinnertime," Mom stated simply. 

"I don't have a dinnertime," Grandma responded, dismissing it.

"You don't have a dinnertime? So all the years I grew up in this house, we did not sit down to dinner at exactly seven o'clock every single night?" 

"No," Grandma said simply.

"I just imagined that?" Mom asked.

"Lorelai, I don't know what your obsession with dinnertime is. Dinnertime is whenever the food is ready, and the food will certainly need at least another twenty-five minutes. We don't have a scheduled dinnertime in this house."

Grandpa, unfortunately adding gasoline to the fire, walked into the room and said, "Emily, for God's sake, it's ten after seven! Why aren't we eating?"

Mom, disgusted, said, "I can't believe you, Mom." She turned on her heel and sped quickly from the house. 

I glanced at my grandparents, and then grabbed my things and left, calling, "Mom, wait." 

When I got outside, Mom was pacing back and forth next to the car, swinging her purse around. 

"I can't _believe_ that woman! I can't…what was her problem? All because Dad gave me money to pay them off for Chilton. Ugh! This is so stupid! _I_ wasn't the one to get rid of the dinners, _Emily_ was. She was the one who decided that we didn't need to come anymore, and because Emily always gets her way, we didn't go." 

As Mom babbled on and continued pacing in front of me, I became acutely aware of the fact that the area around her seemed to be moving instead of her. It was a little disconcerting, so I said quietly, "Um, Mom? Could you maybe stop pacing?"

Mom, unfortunately, was so deep into her conversation, that she hardly even realized that I was still there, so she continued her pacing. Then, when the horizon seemed to become vertical, she started moving too, and stopped babbling. 

"Rory?" she asked, sounding worried. I tried to nod, but nodding didn't work. 

Suddenly she started getting bigger while still moving. Her arm shot out. "Rory?" she asked in a high-pitched voice, reaching for me. The books fell out of my arms and dropped to the ground. The lights went out and I soon followed.

++++++++

I blinked. The fluorescent lights directly overhead devastated my eyes, and I quickly shut them again, hoping to get rid of the pounding headache I could already feel at my temples. 

"Rory, sweetie?" my mom's voice asked from my bedside. 

I kept my eyes tightly closed, because the headache was killing me.

I heard footsteps come into the room, and then sloshing liquid. "Is she awake?" I heard a very familiar voice ask. 

This piqued my curiosity. "Dad?" I asked, squinting my eyes open. 

"Ror!" He sped to my side and smiled at me. "Hey. How you feeling, kiddo?"

"Bright," I groaned. 

"Oh, sorry," Mom said quickly, walking over to flip the lights off. "Better?" she asked, smiling as I glanced at her. I tried to nod, but it hurt my head too much.

"Yes. Where am I?" 

"Hospital," Mom stated simply, walking back over to my bed, on the opposite side of Dad. She settled onto the bed and laid a hand on my head. "You fell down. Got a concussion," she continued, tapping the bump on my forehead. 

"What happened?" I asked.

"They don't know," Dad said, handing the cup he was holding to Mom. "Here."

"Thanks," she said, smiling. She glanced at the cup, glanced at me, glanced back at the cup…. "Here. Drink this," she said furtively, leaning closer to me and holding the cup practically on my face. 

"What is it?" I asked, struggling to sit up and push the cup away from me at the same time.

"Shh!" Mom hissed, pushing me back onto the pillows. "Don't let the nurses see!" This time, she shoved it more towards my hands, and I leaned up a little bit and took a tentative sip.

"It's coffee!" I whispered joyously as the warm liquid trickled down my throat. 

"Shh!" Mom hissed again, but this time she was grinning. "The nurses!" 

"Thanks, Mom," I smiled, pushing myself into a sitting position. It was as I was rearranging the pillows behind my back that I realized I had an IV stuck in my arm. "What's this for?" I asked, running my finger along the tube, and then shuddering as I came to the tape covering the place it entered my arm. 

"They think maybe you fainted because you were dehydrated," Dad explained, taking Mom's spot as she stood. 

"Sweetie, I'm just so glad you're okay!" Mom exclaimed, leaning back down to wrap me in a big hug. "But, as much as I love you, I'm gonna go ahead and get my own coffee." She winked and left the room.

"Your mom told me it's 'cause you've been studying too much." 

"It's hard," I explained. "These are my _final_ final exams." 

"I understand," he nodded. When I glanced at him, he added, "I mean, I never had my own senior exams, but I get that it's a hard time."

"Yeah." I nodded too. Happily, I realized that nodding no longer caused the room to spin. "Hey, the room's not spinning!"

Dad looked at me, concerned. "How long have you been this dizzy?" 

"Well," I started, thinking, "I'd have to say for at least a few days. But it's really only been bad today." 

"And how long have you been studying all night long and not sleeping?" 

"Since this morning at six." When he frowned, I quickly amended, "But, you know, I had a bad dream and woke up sometime before then. It was still dark." Suddenly I realized something and looked towards the window. "What time is it, anyway? I have a calc exam tomorrow." 

"It's ten-thirty," Dad said off-handedly after glancing at his watch. He seemed lost in thought, but I decided to ask him a question that had been bothering me for a few minutes.

"Where're Sherry and Gigi?" 

"Huh? Oh, Sherry had work, so she stayed in Boston. Gigi's with Sherry's mom for the week." 

"Oh," I said quietly, watching Dad's face. He seemed like he hadn't realized that Gigi and Sherry could have been there. Then again, Mom probably would have killed him if he'd brought them, so it's probably for the best. I shrugged, and then set my empty coffee cup on my bedside table. 

"I'll be right back," Dad said suddenly, leaning over to kiss my forehead quickly before bolting. 

"Whoa," Mom said, standing in the doorway as Dad raced down the hallway. "He's in a hurry," she said to me, walking all the way into the room. 

"Yeah."

"How ya doing, sweets?" Mom asked, settling back onto my bed. "Better?" 

I nodded. "Yeah." 

"Good," Mom smiled, took a sip from her coffee, and set it next to my empty cup. "I tried to call Jess earlier and tell him about you being here. Luke answered, babbled some excuse, and hung up. Any idea what that was about?" she raised her eyebrows at me. 

"Uh, maybe he's uncomfortable with hospitals." 

"Rory. I didn't even tell him you were in the hospital. I asked him if I could speak to Jess." 

"Maybe Jess was off somewhere and Luke didn't know." 

"Rory." This time, right after shooting me a disapproving look, she stood and flipped on the light over my bed. "Tell me." 

I sighed. "Okay, first of all, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I just thought with all the Inn stuff and everything, it could wait." 

"What's going on?"

I took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "Jess is gone." 

"Oh. How long?"

"Two weeks." 

"Two weeks? Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry I didn't know! Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," I nodded. "I've almost gotten over it. I mean, there was a weird dream this morning, but I'm letting it go." 

"Well…good for you." She picked up her coffee again and took another sip. "I don't think I could've done that at 18. Hell, I can hardly do that at 35." 

"It's okay." 

Mom reached out and patted my hand. She smiled, and I smiled back.

"This is the room," we heard Dad say, before walking in. An older man in a white doctor's coat followed him. 

"Hello, I'm Dr. Mabry," the man said, extending his hand towards me. "You were unconscious when we met earlier." A twinkle in his eyes told me he was good-natured, and so I smiled and took his hand.

"Nice to meet you," I said. 

"Yes. Well. I'm here with your test results. You see," he said to me, "when you came in, you had fainted, and no one knew why. Your mother said it might be exhaustion from too much studying. When my nurse suggested dehydration, your mother said that couldn't be, because you were living on coffee. That alone suggests dehydration, so we hooked you up with these fluids. Of course, there were many other things that could have happened, and so we took some blood and ran some tests on you. Now I have the results." He flipped the first page of paper back from the chart he was carrying, and looked at me reproachfully. "You're not getting enough folic acid. That's especially bad for someone in your condition." 

"Her..condition?" Mom asked. "A senior during finals week?"

"No," Dad said gravely. "She's…." He buried his head in his hands.

Dr. Mabry supplied the rest of Dad's sentence. "Pregnant. You're pregnant," he turned to me. "Only a few weeks, though, so I don't really blame you." He flipped another page on his chart and then looked back at me with a smile. "Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?" 

I shook my head slowly. I was pregnant. And Jess was gone. 

"That's abnormal. Especially considering your affinity for coffee. Hmm. Do you have an OB/GYN?"

I nodded. 

"Good. You need to make an appointment soon to get started on a pregnancy regimen. Until then, I suggest you stay away from caffeine, especially coffee, and eat more leafy vegetables. I'm also going to prescribe you some folic acid pills until your level gets back to normal. And, like with any concussed patient, I'm going to insist you stay overnight, so we can be sure you're all right." 

"I'm fine," I insisted, sitting up a little straighter. 

He shook his head. "It's better if you stay overnight. Don't worry; I'll make sure you get a chance to make up your exams."

"Okay. Thanks," I said as he left. I watched as he walked from the room and kept staring at the same spot for a minute or two. Finally, I took a deep breath and looked at my parents, who were standing next to each other and staring at me. 

"Rory, when did this happen?" Mom asked slowly.

I quickly glanced at the hospital blanket, playing with a loose thread. "Remember Kyle's party?"

"Uh-huh. Oh," Mom said slowly. "You didn't leave your key at Lane's, did you?" 

I shook my head no. 

"Well, I'm gonna go call Luke again," Mom said, resigned.

"Why?" Dad asked suspiciously. 

"He knows where Jess is," Mom told him. 

"Jess isn't there?" Dad asked, turning to me. 

Again, I shook my head, and then said, "Mom, please don't call him. I don't want Jess to know." 

"What? Why not?"

I sighed. "If he felt like he really had to go, then I don't want to pull him back here just for this."

_"_What do you mean, 'this'? You're _pregnant_, Rory. And Jess is the father. He needs to know."

"He really does, Rory," Dad nodded. 

"Thank you," Mom said, turning to go. 

"No!" I yelled. "I don't want you to call Luke. I don't want Luke to know, I don't want Jess to know, and I don't want to talk about this right now. I just want to go to sleep." I pushed myself down and shoved my head into the pillows. "Can someone turn the light out, please?" 

After a second, my mom slowly walked over and flicked the light over my head off. "Goodnight, babe." She kissed my forehead, and then put a hand on my dad's back to lead him out of my room. The door slowly clicked closed, and I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.


	4. That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles

Title: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Four: That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles

Time: From the end of "There Go The Stars/Here Comes The Son" until graduation, smoothly encompassing the actual air date of this episode ("Those Are Strings, Pinocchio") of May 20.

++++++++

"Can we go to Luke's?" I asked from the back seat. My dad, driving, glanced in his rearview mirror and then at Luke's front window as we passed it. 

"I don't think so, sweetie. Your mom was kinda adamant about no coffee, and it seems like that's all you ever get at Luke's."

"I'll be good, I promise. I'll just have a little cup." 

"Rory, come on. You heard the doctor. No caffeine. It's not good for…." He trailed off, and swallowed. "The baby," he finally forced out.

"I know," I mumbled, sinking further into my seat. As Luke's seemed to fade into the distance, I kicked the back door of Dad's Volvo, just 'cause I was mad. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror but remained silent. I sighed and threw my head back so I was looking out the window.

Mom had forced me to ride home with Dad because she said I needed to lie down, and his Volvo was the better place to do it in, compared to the Jeep. Dad grudgingly took me along, but surprisingly it seemed like Mom had been madder at me than Dad was. Dad seemed resigned to my fate, but Mom actually seemed angry about it. 

When we pulled up to the house, Mom wasn't there yet, but I didn't have a key. Dad gingerly helped me from the car, as if I was a china doll—or at least like I had broken something—and led me over to the porch swing, where we sat. 

He slowly pushed us off, and we started swaying. 

"When did it happen?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had seemed to penetrate our ride home. 

I calculated in my head. "Two weeks ago," I answered quietly.

He nodded. "So you're four weeks along." 

When I glanced at him, he shrugged. "I still remember the weird way it was calculated. It was only eighteen years ago. Little more." 

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. 

"I'm sorry," I said almost inaudibly. 

"It's okay," he whispered. "I remember. And all it takes is once." 

I nodded; wiped my eyes.

He reached an arm around me and squeezed me towards him. 

+++++++

After Mom had come home, she'd forced me into my room "to sleep." Dad slipped me a trashy paperback novel he'd found in the hospital gift shop; one of the only books whose title was not preceded by, "How-To…" or "So You've Been Diagnosed With…." 

I gladly took whatever I could get, and settled into my bed to read. However, when Mom poked her head into my room to check on me, I quickly shoved the book under my covers and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Satisfied, Mom closed the door quietly, and then started talking to Dad. Because the walls are practically paper-thin, I could hear every word they said. 

Mom pushed a chair at the kitchen table back. "She's asleep," she announced, sitting and scooting the chair back towards the table. "Thank _God_." 

"Remind you of when she was little?" Dad asked gently.

"No," Mom said sharply. 

There was silence for a minute, and then Mom said softly, "This is just so hard." 

"I know," Dad said. I heard scraping of chairs, so he was either standing up or edging towards Mom. "I get it."

Mom laughed bitterly. "I never thought I'd identify with Emily. Ugh! I just can't seem to get over this…_disappointed_ feeling. God. I'm disappointed in Rory."

"It's not your fault, Lor," Dad murmured. "She screwed up. She's also eighteen, legally an adult. It's _her_ problem." 

There was a pause, and then another chair scraped. "God, Chris! You don't get it! Do you just not understand the concept of a family? This is my problem too!" Mom sighed. I heard running water, and was almost entirely sure Mom was making a cup of coffee. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a cabinet door open. Then Mom laughed again. "I shouldn't be drinking this. If Rory can't, I won't." The cabinet door closed again, and the fridge door opened. 

"Here," Dad said. 

"Thanks," Mom responded. 

"I'm really trying," Dad said. 

"If you're trying so hard, where's your fiancée? Your new daughter?" 

"God, Lor. It's just so hard." 

"Yeah, it is. It's hard being responsible. But if it were easier, where would screw-ups like you and me be? Not the parents of a pregnant eighteen-year-old, that's for sure." Mom sighed. "I'm gonna wake Rory up. Go to Luke's, get lunch, maybe make a detour back to Hartford to talk to my parents. _That'll _be a fun trip." There was a pause, and then she continued softly, "You should go back to Boston. It's nice you're trying to be responsible, but you should try to be responsible for them. They're not used to disappointment." 

I heard Mom's footfalls head to my door, and then right outside, she gasped, and then I heard plastic fall to the floor and something splash. 

"Chris! What was _that_ for?" She walked away from my door, back to the table.

"Lor, Sherry's horrible. She stopped letting me hold Gigi about a month ago. Her mom moved in, and now they'll hardly let me in the room. And the day before you called about Rory, some _guy _called asking about both of them. I don't know what's wrong with them, but I think neither of them will miss me."

"So I'm your second choice? No. No, Chris, it doesn't work like that." 

"Lor."

"No!"

"Lor!" Silence. Some murmuring. Mom laughed, loudly. 

"Two conditions!" she yelled. 

"Whatever you want."

"Okay. One: that you visit my parents with us when we tell." 

"Done." 

"Chris, get off!" Mom laughed. "And two: that you go to Rory's graduation, you stay with us no matter _what_ we do this summer, and you are every bit as involved in this pregnancy as Rory and I are. Well, not quite Rory, but definitely me."

"Deal. _Now_ can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Mom giggled. 

++++++++

Ten minutes later, when I decided it had been long enough for me to "wake up" from my "sleep", I exited my room to find a plastic water bottle sitting in a puddle. I decided that had been the splash I'd heard, stepped gingerly over it, and headed to the living room. 

"Oh, my God, it's _All My Children_!" Mom yelled. She was sitting on one side of the couch, her feet in my dad's lap. He was sitting on the other end. "I swear to God, one day I came home early from school sick, and I found my mom watching this." Mom waved the remote at the TV, where what was obviously a soap opera was on.  

"You weren't sick," Dad disagreed. "That was the day we skipped school 'cause James figured out how to raid his parents' liquor cabinet. I took you home, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Mom laughed. "God, what ever happened to all of our friends?"

Dad shrugged. "Spread across the country. No one ever talked about _our_ friends. We had the bad crowd." 

"Yeah," Mom said thoughtfully. "Thank God Rory's not like that."

"Yeah," Dad agreed.

I figured this was as good a time as any to make my presence known. "Hey," I said, wandering into the room and over to the couch. Mom immediately pulled her feet from Dad's lap and dropped them on the floor, creating a space for me.

"Hey," she said back, shooting Dad a look that I wasn't supposed to see or understand, but I did. It clearly meant, "Shut up about everything right now." 

"I'm hungry," I said, leaning my head onto Mom's shoulder. She put her arm around me and rubbed my arm. 

"Wanna head over to Luke's? We can freak him out and get salads and water." 

I paused, thinking, and then nodded. "Yeah. We can practice telling Grandma and Grandpa on him." 

"Yeah; I guess that's an okay idea." Mom glanced at Dad. "Coming, Chris?"

He shook his head. "I, um, think I'm gonna head back to Boston. But I'll be back for graduation, Rory."

It was Mom's turn to shake her head. "No. You don't have to come to Luke's, but after Luke's we're heading to Hartford to tell my parents." Mom gave him a meaningful look. "You _have_ to come, Christopher." 

Almost wincing, he nodded. "I think maybe I'll just go find a place to stay. Your Inn?" 

"You can try," Mom shrugged. "It's still a little ravaged from the fire. I told you about the fire, didn't I?" 

"Yeah. Well, whatever. I'll see you guys later." Dad stood, and we followed him to the door. "Be good, hon." Dad placed a kiss on the top of my head as we parted ways next to his car. 

++++++++

"Hey, Luke?" I asked halfway through my salad. He was standing at the counter, doing some diner-y thing with money or paper or something. I couldn't really tell, but he wasn't busy, and it was only Mom and me in there at five after two on a Tuesday afternoon. 

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up quickly.

"Can I talk to you? Maybe…upstairs?"

"Why not here?" he asked, glancing around the empty diner. 

"Just…it's better told upstairs." 

"Okay," he sighed, dropping whatever was in his hands on the counter. "Why not?" 

I followed him through the curtain, only glancing back once, to find Mom giving me sympathetic eyes over her untouched salad. 

"What's up?" Luke asked as we crossed the threshold into his apartment. 

I allowed my eyes to flick over Jess's empty side exactly once before staring directly into Luke's eyes. "I have new to tell you. It, um…it might be sitting-down news." 

"Couch sitting down news or kitchen table?" 

"Um…kitchen table. I guess." 

"Okay." Luke led me over to his kitchen table, where we settled into opposite chairs. 

"Here goes nothing," I murmured. "Um, first things first: you can't tell Jess. No way. I don't care how much you want to tell him, it's the kind of thing I should tell him, and I just want to tell him when I'm good and ready." 

"All right," Luke said, a little apprehensively. 

"Okay. This is probably news best blurted, so I'm gonna go ahead and blurt. I'm pregnant." 

Luke stared at me. 

"It's kinda hard for me to believe, too. Um, it's Jess's, and I'm keeping it, and this is gonna screw up this summer, probably, but not Yale. I've already decided that I'm just gonna live at home, and take two or three classes instead of five. So, Yale's all mapped out." That morning, before my mom would let me leave the hospital, we'd had a lengthy conversation about how next year was going to go, now that I'd been stupid and gotten pregnant, like she had. 

Luke continued staring at me, only now his gaze kept darting to my stomach and then back to my eyes, and then suddenly he added the phone to the line-up, excluded my eyes, and started looking mad. 

"Luke, please, _please _don't tell him," I said, startling him. 

He glanced up at me quickly, waved his hand, and said, "Yeah, whatever."

Still feeling a bit apprehensive about leaving him with this explosive information, I went ahead and stood from the table. "Well…I'm gonna go ahead and leave."

"Okay," Luke said, now openly glaring at the phone. 

"Please, Luke," I said one last time. The desperation I was feeling must have leaked out, because he looked up at me, really looked, and sighed. 

"Okay. I won't tell him." 

"Thank you," I said, making it to the door of his apartment.

"But are you sure you don't want his address?"

"Not yet. Not _quite_ yet. You'll know when I do." I smiled at him genuinely. "Thanks again." 

He nodded, and I left, the door shutting with a soft 'click' behind me.

++++++++

We avoided going to Hartford that afternoon, because Mom had called to ask if we could come over, and was greeted with a chilly, "We have plans." 

And also, we all three chickened out.

++++++++

That night, Dad and I were curled up on the couch, watching television. Well, _I _was watching it, Dad was just asking question after question after _question_.

"Wait, who's the guy talking again?" he asked halfway through the _Buffy_ series finale. That's right, he was asking annoying questions at the beginning of the last action-filled thirty minutes of Buffy. EVER.

"That's Robin Wood, principal of Sunnydale High." 

"And why's he in the gang?" 

"His mom was the Slayer that Spike killed, plus he and Buffy went out once."

"Which one's Spike?" 

"The peroxide blonde British vamp." 

"Ah, okay." He settled into silence for a few more minutes, and we watched as Buffy and Dawn said goodbye. My eyes started tearing up. The core Scoobies held a conversation much like one in the series premiere, and, I swear, a tear escaped. As Giles walked off, muttering that the world was _definitely_ doomed, Dad laughed and then stopped. "Wait, isn't this the apocalypse coming?"

"Yes," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Then why is he joking about the world being doomed?"

"Because it's supposed to be funny."

"It didn't work," Dad decided, even though he'd just laughed. 

"Shush!" I finally yelled. 

"Sorry," Dad whispered. 

A commercial break later, the fight was really getting going, and Dad started asking more questions, but I just kept shushing him and staring at the TV, as all of these people started falling down, injured, and dying, and pretty soon I was bawling. 

That was how Mom and Sookie found me at ten, as the end credits were rolling. By then, Dad had gotten up and sat in the kitchen for at least fifteen minutes, tired of me yelling at him. Mom and Sookie let me cry it out, and then told me to shut up, as they hadn't yet seen the tape, and then they handed me my graduation dress to try on. 

"How does it feel?" Sookie asked as I exited my room. 

"Very nice," I responded, and then fiddled with the stomach. "A little tight, though." Sookie rushed over and then re-measured. 

"Go ahead and take it off, honey. I'll take it home and fix it for you."

"Aw, Sook, you don't have to do that," Mom said. 

I left them to argue with each other at the kitchen table, and went back into my room to change. Once again, however, I was privy to a very private conversation I would not normally be privy to. And, once again, it was one of those life-changing things. 

"After Rory gives me the dress back, I should go," Sookie said. "I've got a stupid job interview tomorrow morning, and you know what, I'm nervous!"

"Which place?" Mom asked. 

"Um, Harrington's in Woodbridge." 

"Nice," Mom said appreciatively.

"They want me to be their executive chef four nights a week. God, I can't imagine working someplace else. And without my Lorelai!" Sookie wailed.

"But it's only a few months until the Dragonfly opens, right?" Dad asked. 

"Uh…you haven't told him yet." Sookie said, a little uncomfortably.

"Told me what?" Dad asked, confused.

"I was waiting for an opportunity," Mom said.

"To tell me what?"

"Which apparently is right now," Mom laughed.  "Okay, well, um. We're…we're not buying the Dragonfly."  

_What?_ I thought, pausing. But…they had to buy the Dragonfly. Otherwise Mom wouldn't have a job. And she was expecting we could send me to Yale _and_ take care of a kid

"It's just not the right time," Mom continued. "What with the baby, and Yale, and everything."

"I'm gonna go now," Sookie said softly. "Listen, uh, can you fix Rory's dress?"

"Sure, sweetie," Mom said. "Bye." 

I heard Sookie leave, and then Mom continued talking to Dad. "Chris, we didn't get financial aid for Yale. Now…I don't know what to do." She sounded a little choked up, like she was going to cry. 

"Shh, it's okay, Lor," Dad said quietly. "We'll work something out." 

I made up my mind then and there to stop at Grandma and Grandpa's house as soon as possible. We had a _lot_ of things to talk about.

++++++++

The last three days of the week were entirely devoted to doing nothing at school; we seniors recorded messages for the video yearbook, and while most of my other classmates were watching movies and talking about end-of-the-year parties, I was taking the rest of my exams. 

By Friday afternoon, however, I'd made it through all of my exams, and the reason I wasn't sprawled out on the classroom floor salivating over Josh Hartnett in "The Faculty" was because of my doctor's appointment. I peeled the last picture from the inside of my locker and dropped it into my relatively empty backpack. Then, practically savoring the feeling, I slammed the locker shut for the last time. I slipped my backpack onto my back and walked slowly through the empty hallways, relishing the fact that this was the last time I'd ever walk through these halls as a student. The next time I visited them, the next day, I would be a recent graduate. 

I entered the office, and the receptionist handed me my last dose of daily folic acid pills before sliding the sign-in clipboard towards me. 

I signed my name, said "Thanks. Have a good summer," and headed for the door. As my hand reached to open it, it swung open to reveal…Paris.

"Rory," she said, startled. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be watching the alien movie?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Doctor's appointment," I explained, holding up my note. 

Paris nodded. "Yeah. I don't…feel well." She reached a hand up to touch her forehead briefly, and then thought better of it and moved it to her stomach. 

I nodded, and watched her sign out. "Uh-huh. Well, I should go. I've gotta catch a bus." 

"Hold on, Gilmore," Paris said, sliding the clipboard back to the receptionist. "I've got a car. I'll drive you."

"Um, okay. Sure." I held the door open for her, glancing back at the receptionist once. She raised her eyebrows, and then shrugged. We were, after all, seniors, and it was, after all, the last day of school.

"So, do you _really _have a doctor's appointment?" Paris asked as we threw our backpacks into the trunk of her sporty little Mercedes Benz roadster. 

"Yeah," I said. 

"Really?" Paris asked, raising her eyebrows as she started her car. Surprisingly, music started up with it, and, even more surprisingly, it was Fatboy Slim. 

"Is this Fatboy Slim?" I asked, astonished. 

"I'm not a _complete_ hard-ass, Gilmore. And besides. It's old, no one else listens to it, it hasn't been overplayed into oblivion. It's practically perfect." 

"Oh," I said, nodding. Suddenly, after three years of competition, bitter rivalry, and being friends…ish, Paris became human. And just a little _cool_. It was, after all, Fatboy Slim's 1998 CD, _You've Come A Long Way, Baby_. And the song was "Praise You." And, she was giving me a ride to the doctor. Speaking of….

"Okay, so, since you're actually going to the doctor, where am I going?" Paris asked as we came to an intersection. 

"Um, I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "It's Dr. Robinson. Do you know where her office is?"

"Sure," Paris nodded. "She's my gynecologist. So, you're finally heading out into the real world, ready for a doctor who's not from that one-horse town you live in?"

"No," I said, shrugging off Paris's comment about Stars Hollow easily. Instead, I continued uneasily, "I just haven't ever been to an OB/GYN before." 

"Yeah, I just started this year. After Jamie and I…." She trailed off, allowing me to fill in the blanks. I did, and nodded, thankful for this easy in.

"Yeah, that's why I'm going."

"You had sex with Jamie?" Paris screeched, suddenly slamming on the brakes and staring at me.

"No!" I yelled back. 

"Oh, God." Paris turned back to the road and transferred her foot to the gas pedal. "God, Gilmore, don't _scare_ me like that!"

"Sorry," I said. "But I did have sex."

"Really?"

I nodded. Remembering what Paris had said when we'd had the conversation about her, I said with a smile, "What are your thoughts on that?"

To my delight, Paris also smiled a small smile. "Well, were you safe?"

My smile faded and I glanced at my hands, playing in my lap. "No. Not really." 

This time when Paris stopped and stared at me, it was at a stop sign. "You weren't safe?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No," I shook my head. "It was sort of a spur of the moment decision at this party, and he didn't have anything, and I _really _didn't have anything, and…now…." Just like I'd told Luke a few days before, this was news best blurted. So I blurted. "I'm pregnant," I said.

Paris's eyes got really big and her mouth dropped open. A car sitting behind us honked, and I prodded her, "Um, Paris?"

"Yeah, okay." She eased us through the intersection and around another corner until we made it to Dr. Robinson's office. "Here we are," Paris finally spoke again, parking in front of Dr. Robinson's door. 

"Thanks," I said, exiting the car and walking to the trunk, which Paris had just popped, to get my backpack. When I passed by Paris's side, she rolled down her window and yelled, "Hey! Gilmore!"

"Yeah?" I turned back to face her.

"Are you still going to Yale?"

I nodded slowly. "Yep. Still going to Yale." 

"Okay. Good. Uh, I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Bye, Gellar."

She smiled slightly. "Bye, Gilmore." 

I nodded and turned back to head into the doctor's office. As I was checking in, I glanced quickly out the window to see Paris still sitting in her car, watching me. When she spotted me, she quickly peeled out. I smiled, and found a seat.

++++++++

Dr. Robinson was a very nice woman. She confirmed my pregnancy, reminded me about the various forms of birth control without sounding preachy, inquired of my family medical history, and prescribed prenatal vitamins. She then very politely answered the one question I'd been dying to ask, and she answered in the affirmative.

"Well," she said, "I think, if you make sure to be back at least two weeks before school starts, to allow for time for your body to get used to a routine and this time zone again, then you should definitely go to Europe. You're only eighteen once, you know? Make sure to make an appointment for right after you get back, and keep taking both your folic acid and prenatal supplements, and remain relatively clean and healthy, and you'll be good." She smiled. 

I knew I liked her.

However, that night when I told Mom what Dr. Robinson had said, I changed two weeks to a month, because it was just so much easier that way.

+++++++

The next morning, dressed simply in my graduation dress, I made my way nervously to Grandma and Grandpa's house. 

They both answered the door, in the middle of getting ready to head on over to Chilton, and they looked very nice.

"Rory," Grandma stated simply, a little surprised to see me there.

"Hey Grandma, hey Grandpa."

"What brings you here on this busy day?" Grandpa asked happily, a "my-granddaughter's-graduating!" twinkle in his eye.

"I have sort of a time-sensitive issue I need to talk to you about," I said, my head working frantically to remember the speech I'd written the night before.

"Time sensitive," Grandpa repeated.

"Yes, _very_ time-sensitive," I said.

"Well, come in, come in," Grandpa gestured me into the house, and we naturally walked into the sitting room, and sat, them together on the couch across from me.

After we sat, I shifted in my seat a little, unable to get comfortable. Ever since the day before, when Dr. Robinson had told me symptoms to look out for, they'd all suddenly sprung up, another sure sign that I really _am _my mother.

"Should we be nervous?" Grandma asked, obviously watching me. 

"No, you shouldn't be," I said quickly, and then admitted, "I am, a little."

"Well, what is it?" Grandpa asked nicely. 

Once again, this was blurt-worthy news, and so I did it. "I need money," I blurted. 

"You need money," Grandpa repeated. 

"For Yale," I clarified. 

"You need money for Yale," Grandpa repeated again. 

"Stop repeating everything she says," Grandma said, exasperated. 

"I'm sorry, I'm processing," Grandpa said. 

"And there's something else." 

They both stared at me expectantly.

"Um, I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant." This time, it was Grandma who did the repeating.

I nodded. "Um, it's a long story, but the short of it is that I was stupid, once, one time, one party, one time I said yes instead of no, and now I'm pregnant. I'm still going to Yale, I'm just going to take three courses instead of five, and I'm going to live at home after the baby's born. But the thing is, if I want to go to Yale, I need money, because no other financing came through, and the other options Mom and I have are…well, stupid. So, here's the offer: I would like for you to loan me the money for four—maybe five—years at Yale, and in return I will get a part-time job and pay you back in installments. I will continue this payment plan after graduation, increasing the payment amounts in proportion to my income. Additionally, I will reinstate Friday night dinners with me. Every Friday night, I will be here, six-thirty on the dot, and after…well, after the baby's born, he or she will also come to Friday night dinners, every Friday, with hardly any missed, until all of the money is paid back." I took a deep breath, un-tensed my shoulders, and silently congratulated myself for remembering my entire speech.

"Well…," Grandma started, "how wonderful." 

I smiled. Maybe I wouldn't be yelled at.

"We've missed you, Rory," Grandpa said. "And while I don't particularly…like all of your story, I think it's very admirable that you're not letting your mistake impede you from attending Yale."

"So…this should work out for everyone, right?"

"Yes…I believe this could happen the way you wish it to. Of course, at some point we want to meet the baby's father," Grandma said.

"Oh, of course," I nodded. "Um, maybe not anytime soon, but as soon as his schedule's free, we'll both be here." _Oh, and maybe when he's in the state. And _knows_,_ I thought to myself.

"Not so fast," Grandpa said. "I'm happy to pay for Yale, but I don't want it to be a loan."

I immediately started shaking my head. "No, I don't want that. I want it to be a loan, because otherwise it's too easy."

"I hate to scare you, Rory, but nothing will ever be easy again," Grandpa said.

"I know," I said, "but I still don't want any breaks." 

"All right. How about this? Don't think of this as a gift to you. Think of this as a gift to the baby. You don't pay me back, but instead use the money you earn to pay for the normal baby necessities."

I thought over it. Seriously, a baby needs a _lot_ of stuff. "Okay," I said slowly. 

"Good," Grandpa smiled.

"Wonderful. And if you ever need any more financial help, we're always here for you." Grandma smiled tightly.

"We have a deal," Grandpa said proudly. 

I smiled. "Well, I should go," I said, standing. 

"Rory, does your mother know you're here?" Grandma asked suddenly.

"No," I said simply. "This is _my_ thing. I'll see you at the ceremony."

I waved, and left the house quickly.

++++++++

Closer to the ceremony, I was milling around the large room into which they'd shoved all of us soon-to-be graduates. I spotted my mom hassling one of my classmates, whose face looked unfamiliar.

"…Rory Gilmore. She's the valedictorian. I'm her mom," Mom said proudly. The girl kinda stared at her weirdly, so I walked up and said, "Mom." 

"Uh, no, go away. I wanna tell a bunch of other people that I'm the valedictorian's mom." 

I smiled at how proud she was, and then launched directly into conversation. "They know." 

"What? Who knows what?"

"Grandma and Grandpa. They…_know_." I said meaningfully.

"What?" Mom was shocked. "Rory, you already _told_ them? We were going to tell them together!" 

"Well, I did it by myself. And they didn't seem to shocked. Of course, it's probably because I told them my game plan. They were so impressed, Grandpa won't even let me pay them back."

"Pay them back for what?" Mom asked suspiciously.

"Yale." 

"No, Rory, you didn't!"

"I did. And it's all me. I did everything. I'm the one who brought up the conversation, I'm the one who committed myself to Friday night dinners again—"

"You _need_ to be committed, Rory, I can't believe you did that!" 

"Hey! It was all me. You don't have any obligations. I did everything," I repeated, feeling white-hot anger springing up in my chest. "You can have your Inn now. I did it for you." The anger dissipated, apparently caused by my sudden tears. "Oh," I said, wiping my eyes, "the ceremony's about to start. I better get out there." I leaned forward and wrapped her in a really tight hug. "Go buy that Inn!" I commanded her, planting a kiss square on her cheek and letting go. "I need…tissues," I muttered, walking away from Mom.

Look! Mood swings already! Joy of joys!

++++++++

I was valedictorian. I gave a speech about my love of books, and then talked about my mom. I cried. I also, according to Mom, made Luke cry too. And Dad. Mom later told me it was hard to have Dad on one side of her and Luke on the other, but she'd sat Sookie and Jackson between her and Luke, and then sat Dad on the opposite side, next to Grandma and Grandpa, so everything worked out fine. 

After a while, Paris found me somehow in the chaos, and said she wanted to say goodbye.

"I'm glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye, too," I said when she walked up.

"Good. Well…good luck. With everything." 

"Thanks. You too. You know, it's weird. Most of the time I really hated you," I smiled.

"Yeah, I really hated you too." Paris smiled back, and then we hugged, tightly. 

"See you later," I whispered.

"Yeah, you too." Paris let go, grinned at me, and walked into the waiting arms of her nanny. 

As I watched her go, Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma walked up, at which point Grandpa and Grandma pointed out my graduation present, a very safe Prius. It looked weird, but it was a _car_, which was perfect, since I would be living at home and driving to Yale every day. I hugged them both, and Grandma said she was looking forward to seeing all three of us the second we returned, and then she and Grandpa walked off. 

Mom and Dad glanced at each other, and Mom opened her mouth to say something, but my cell phone rang, so I answered it. It was a hang-up, which, as Mom pointed out, I'd been getting a lot lately. I was almost entirely sure that it was Jess, being a chicken because he didn't officially say goodbye, and instead ran away to some other place—most likely New York. He could very easily return for one day to come to my graduation, but he hadn't, so he was stupid.

My phone rang again, and this time I held up a finger and walked away from Mom and Dad, more out into the open, to get a better signal. 

"Jess, is that you?" I asked when I thought I was far enough away. I was answered with silence. "Jess, I'm pretty sure it's you and I'm pretty sure you've been calling and not saying anything but you wanna say something." I paused again, and was again rewarded with silence. "Hello? You're not going to talk? Fine, I'll talk." There was that white-hot anger again. "You didn't handle things right at all. You could've talked to me. You could've told me that you were having trouble in school and weren't going to graduate, and that your dad had been here, but you didn't. And you ended up not taking me to my prom and not coming to my graduation and leaving again without really saying goodbye again, and that's fine, I get it, but that's it for me." The anger was once again replaced by tears, and I struggled to get through the next few sentences. "I'm going to Europe tomorrow and I'm going to Yale and I'm moving on. And I'm not going to pine. I hope you didn't think I was going to pine, okay?" I broke down at this point…the words would hardly come out, and they were garbled by tears, but I think Jess got them. "Jess, I…I love you, but I just need to let it go." I paused for just a second; to get my breath back. "So, that's it, I guess. Um, I hope you're good. I want you to be good, and, um, okay, so, goodbye. That word sounds really lame and stupid right now, but there it is. Goodbye." I paused, waited for him to say anything, and then slowly hung up. As I slipped the phone back into the pocket of the sweater I was wearing under my robe, I entertained fantasies of me walking around the corner and seeing Jess, just standing there, in his leather jacket, with his hair sticking straight up, and that smile I hardly ever got to see plastered across his face. The smile that made him look like a little kid. 

After walking around the corner to nothing, I choked back more tears and tried to find my parents. 

++++++++

I hope you guys like this. Next up comes a chapter I've really been looking forward to writing, and I think you guys will really like it. At least, at the beginning, and then you'll hate me again.

Oh, and can I get some help from you guys? I have a name for the baby already, boy _or_ girl, but I need some help deciding on the sex. If you guys could do me a favor and when you review, include a number, _any_ number, from 1 to 1,000,000,099, and I would be so thrilled. But make sure it's not like "one hundred", but instead "100". I will then, from the number of responses, take the baby's name _and _when it's to be born. That's right: it's like one of those "you choose the ending" books! Only, you don't get to glance ahead to see what's going on! 

Seriously, _any_ number rocks supremely. 


	5. Leavin' Time Again

Title: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Five: Leavin' Time Again

POV: Jess, but for this chapter only.

A/N: Answers to inquiries:

To **Samantha**: first of all, cool name. Second of all, two weeks pregnant is counted as being four weeks pregnant because with the gestational calendar or whatever they start two weeks before conception has actually occurred, i.e., the last period. I dunno why. 

To **Milo12**: (1) The party was still cop-raided. See the first chapter, where they heard far-off sirens and the place was practically cleared out. Let's just say a neighbor finally got fed up with the loud music. It is, after all, Stars Hollow. Taylor probably couldn't get to sleep. (2) I didn't write about Jimmy coming because this is from Rory's POV and even in the show, Rory was never told about Jimmy coming. It just seemed like she'd been told because _we'd _been told. So, Luke probably told her. (3) In the show, Jess left because he'd had a fight with Rory at Kyle's party about not having sex, he'd just seen his dad, he wasn't graduating, and Luke kicked him out. In this story, Jess left because he'd had a fight with Rory in Luke's apartment about not having sex again, he'd just seen his dad, he wasn't graduating, and Luke kicked him out. Everything that had to do with Jess leaving still happened; this time it just happened off-screen, kinda, because, once again, this is Rory's POV. She knew nothing about Jess at all in the last few episodes. So, Jess left because of extremely huge reasons in the show and in this story. 

I hope that answers all of your questions. :D

++++++++

_I tried to be unlovable_

_Why couldn't you do the same?_

++++++++

When I'd left California, the moon was shining duskily in the sunlight of the bright blue sky. Now, just a few days and a couple thousand miles later, the moon was barely visible through the gray clouds covering a midnight-black sky. 

I stepped from the bus slowly, my leather jacket protecting me from the chilliness of the Connecticut summer night, and made my way through the small town to the dark diner in the center. I stood across the street for ten minutes, until I was completely sure that there _was _light flickering in the apartment upstairs. 

Satisfied, I headed to the side of the diner, the one where the tree branch reaches my old bedroom window. I dropped my bag at the base of the tree, shrugged out of my leather jacket, and started to climb. 

Less than two minutes later, I was oh-so-gracefully falling into my old room. I guess my loud grunts and curse words were just a little too loud, because soon Luke came running in, a baseball bat held high above his head. Remembering that he'd actually _played _baseball in high school, I winced and threw my arms over my head. 

"Jess?" he asked, astonished, lowering the bat slowly. When I saw the bottom of the bat touch the floor, I slowly stood and smirked at Luke.

"How ya doin', Uncle Luke?" 

He glared and lifted the bat again, this time adopting a batter stance and lining himself up with my head. "Hold still," he muttered, staring with an evil glint in his eye. 

"Luke?" a distinctly female voice asked from around the corner. 

"Who's _that_?" I asked, walking out of my section and around the corner. I stopped when I saw who it was. "Nicole," I said slowly.

"Uh, hello," she said, folding her arms across her chest. She was standing on the other side of Luke's bed, clothed only in a flimsy little white baby-doll nightie. I couldn't tell if she'd stood up from the bed, or the desk on the other side of the bed. She was, however, suddenly blonde, which was a change from the deep auburn she'd been only a few months ago, when I'd left. She took her gaze from me and turned to Luke. "Luke?" she asked again. "What's going on?" 

Luke sighed. He leaned the baseball bat against the wall and waved a hand dismissively at me. "Jess is back." 

"Oh, Jess," she sighed. She reached to the floor and lifted up a robe, flipping it on smoothly. I watched as she tied it tightly around her waist one, two, three times. After she was finished she looked up. She caught me staring at her, and I immediately turned back around to face Luke.

"So, Luke, how's life been treatin' ya?" 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Luke said lowly as I wandered past him to the fridge. 

"Harsh words, Uncle Luke." I pulled a carton of milk out and then tried to find a glass. 

"Jess, stop it." 

"I'm a growing boy. I need my calcium." I proceeded to pour.

"Jess. I said stop!" 

Shocked at the actually harsh tone in his voice, I glanced up at him. I hadn't seen him this mad since…well, the last time I'd seen him. 

"Um, maybe I should—" Nicole spoke up softly.

"Yeah, maybe you should go," Luke said, staring directly at me. I knew he was speaking to me. 

"I'll just get my things," Nicole said, starting to cross the apartment to the bathroom. 

"No, Nicole. I'll just leave. The way I came," I said, still staring at Luke. He nodded slowly. 

"And you don't need to come back. If you don't know yet, she doesn't think you need to know."

"Know what?"

"Out, Jess," he said, breezing past my question and pointing to the window through which I'd come. 

"But, Luke—" 

"_No_, Jess. This is the way it is. This is the way it is supposed to be. _That _is the way you need to go." He pointed again at the window, for emphasis. I nodded slowly, drank my milk as quickly as I could, and waltzed back through the apartment. I left the milk on the counter, gave Nicole a head nod as I passed her, and then stopped, poised at the edge of the window. 

"Bye, Luke. Tell her—tell her I'm sorry." 

His gaze, nor his glare, ever wavered. 

I nodded, edged my way through the window, and crawled back down the tree. At the bottom, I picked up my army bag and shoved my leather jacket into it—it really was warm—before slinging the bag back over my shoulder and sauntering back through town. 

++++++++

I got there a lot quicker than I thought I would. It might have just been the fact that the town was so quiet at midnight; everyone had been asleep for hours. Normally the only people awake would be them, but they were gone. I knew they were. It was one of the reasons I'd picked that time to come, because I knew they would be off in Europe, having the time of their lives. 

The house was strangely quiet, and dark. I'd seen it dark before, but even in the dark, there always seemed to be noise. Movies, TV, some CD they'd fallen asleep to; something. 

In the dark I noticed not one, but three cars crowding the front lawn. The requisite Jeep, a silver Volvo, and some other silver weird-looking car. As I walked past it, I trailed my hand along the weird-looking car. Maybe she'd gotten it for graduation, from her grandparents. Her grandparents seemed like the time of people to give her a car, and she would be going to school a whole 22.8 miles away. 

The front door was locked, like they always did when they left for more than a few hours at a time. Her window, however, was unlocked, like always, and I slowly pried it open and crawled through, leaving my bag below it. Somehow, crawling through a first-floor window was much easier than crawling through a second-floor window, and I managed to not fall to the floor of her room. I even managed to make it through in a somewhat standing position. 

Her bed was made, the throw pillows arranged meticulously. Her Harvard corner had been transformed into a much geekier Yale corner, although I had to admit, the blue of the Yale sweater matched her eyes much better than the crimson Harvard one. Her bookshelves were still relatively full, which meant she'd been a little bit talked out of the multitudes of paperbacks she'd been planning to cart around with her. A few books were pulled from the shelves, and were lying down as if she'd just put them down. There was some trashy thing; a very old, bedraggled book that looked like it'd been read a million times; a book or two on the history of Yale, a European guide book they'd left out at the last minute, and at the bottom…a tiny brochure. 

_Your Period's Late. Now What? _it read in bold letters across the top. At the bottom was a badly drawn picture of a cartoon girl looking sad. She had three thought bubbles drawn above her head. One read "Stress?" with a picture of a stack of books, with a big C circled on what looked to be a test paper. The second read "Weight Loss/Gain?" with a picture of a scale with its numbers spinning. The third read "Pregnancy?" with a picture of what was supposedly the cartoon girl's cartoon boyfriend. 

The brochure had words trailing up and down the sides, written in her precise script. 

_"__This tiny little brochure likes to scare the hell out of girls, and also to bore others of us to death. It serves only as a tool for public schools to separate the boys and girls for an hour, hoping that if they are separated to learn about the disadvantages of sex, they will be that much more disinclined to jump upon one another when they meet again.__"_

I flipped open the brochure to see if she continued her commentary anywhere else. I was greeted by some not so precise print, something that only had to be her best friend's words, judging by the content.

"That is entirely true. However, I know that Mama will want us to give her a complete run down of every single word that was spoken during this entire hour. Maybe we should pay attention."

_"__I almost laughed out loud! You have to be careful what you write here, because you know they'll yell again."_

"Just because we made fun of Taylor's "Stay Only In Stars Hollow For The Rest Of Your Life" speech. I mean, I know that Mama will force me to, but it's not like I want to."

_"__I get it. Don't worry. When I make it to somewhere away from here, I'll most definitely sneak you away. At least for a year or two."_

_"_Why do they give this speech to us as freshmen? I don't care at all. As a matter of fact, I don't like this speech. I certainly don't know anyone who's planning on having sex anytime soon. Unless you're not telling me something…"__

_"__Oh, right, me. With the mother who dropped out of high school at the age of 16 and ran away from home at the age of 17."_

"See what I mean?"

_"__You're right about us. But what about the rest of these girls?"_

"Well, Joanna Posner is glowing a little."

_"__Oops, he just glared. Better put the pens away."_

"It's your fault for laughing."

It was there the conversation ended. I refolded the brochure and restacked the books, before wandering towards her desk. Her iMac was open, but off. Getting an idea, I turned it on and settled into her desk chair, all in one smooth motion. 

++++++++

I woke up the next morning with the iMac's keyboard permanently imprinted on my cheek. I tried to wipe it off, with no avail. Instead, I turned the laptop off quickly, before crawling back through her window and shutting it as tightly as I could behind me. I picked up my bag and started to stride quickly across the lawn. 

I only stopped at her car, the new silver weird-looking one. I pulled the letter that had been in my pocket since I'd left her on the bus at the end of May. I stared at it for just a second, before opening the driver's side door and placing it gently on the seat. I closed the door, aware of the deafening noise the slam seemed to make in the relatively early morning. 

"Goodbye, Rory. Thanks. For everything." 

I left the words hanging in the air next to her car, hoping they would still be there when she got back, and walked back through the town, back to the bus station. The next bus that pulled up, I was on it. I didn't know where it was going, but that's where I wanted to be. Away from Stars Hollow.

++++++++

_Dear Rory Gilmore,_

_I meant to be there. _

_I meant to graduate._

_I meant to make you proud._

_You know I did. You know that's all I ever wanted. All I ever wanted was for you to look at me like you cared._

_And for so long, you did. _

_My dad came back. I know that Luke will probably tell you this after he learns that I'm gone. But it happened. My dad came back. _

_I haven't seen him in years. Since I can remember. He came back, he told me who he was, we sat in the dark diner listening to "Suffragette City" by Bowie, and then he split. Again. _

_That was the day after Kyle's party. _

_That was the same day as our fight._

_And I'm so sorry for not making it up to you. I'm so sorry for walking out on you without resolving this stupid thing. But I just couldn't anymore. I've been failing since at least January. I've been skipping school to go to work. I worked at Wal-Mart, for crissakes. _

_Rory, you don't understand. There's no way you can. There's no way you can know what it's like to not know your dad, to not give a damn about anyone else, and then suddenly…care. That's right, I care. I care a lot. _

_None of this is about you at all. It was just the right time. I don't have to stick around for graduation or anything, because I'm not going to be graduating. And I haven't met Jimmy before. I just want to get to know him. _

_Our fight just happened at an inopportune time._

_It's not your fault, though. This has nothing to do with you. I understand it should; I get all that. Maybe I'm just an uncaring bastard, I don't know. Maybe it's genetic, something we Marianos have. _

_Ror, don't blame yourself. Blame me all you want, but don't blame yourself. _

_Jess Mariano_


	6. Mr Responsible Shows His UnWelcome Face

Title: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Six: Mr. Responsible Shows His (Un)Welcome Face

Time: From 3 weeks before "Ballroom and Biscotti" to "The Lorelais' First Day At Yale". 

A/N: Reviews and comments and all that stuff make me happy and giddy and write more and faster, just letting you know. Oh, and no more numbers are needed. The polls are closed. 

++++++++

"We're here," Mom said simply, pushing the front door open. 

"We're _home_," I corrected, edging past her with my backpack. "I can't wait to sleep in my own bed." 

"Oh, me too!" Mom yelled, following me. 

"What are you doing?" I asked, turning around at the door to my room. 

"Following you," she said simply. 

"Mom," I started, "_your _bed is upstairs." I pointed, politely, to remind her. 

"I know. I'm coming to help you unpack. Look at all your pretty new clothes!" She held up the backpack she was carrying. I sighed.

"Fine, come on in." 

"Thank you," she said. Immediately, she dropped the bag on the floor and jumped onto my bed, spreading all the way out. "Oh my God, your bed feels _so_ good." 

"Mom!" I complained. She shrugged. "Alright, fine, but don't get comfortable. I will sleep on top of you if I have to." I opened my closet and started taking clothes out.

"Ooh, threats from the rapidly growing lady. Mm, smell this!" She held one of my throw pillows towards me. 

"What?" I asked, not even bothering to walk over. 

"I forgot that pillows didn't have to smell like feet!"

I glanced over and saw that she was lying with her feet on my pillows. "Well, then, get your feet off of them!" 

She kicked them up in the air, away from the pillows. "You know, I have to say, I think it's good that I did this hostel thing in my thirties, and I'll tell you why." 

"Can't wear this, or this, or this," I said, dropping all of my clothes into a pile on the floor. 

"If I had done this in my twenties or teens, I would have been naïve enough to think that hostels were exotic or romantic. But once you're in your thirties, you've lived enough to know that they're gross and should be avoided at all costs." 

By that time I'd moved onto the suitcase I'd brought in, and was discarding some of the smaller maternity clothes. "Can't wear this, or this, definitely not this." I sighed. "How can I get any bigger?" 

Mom finally looked over at me, her thoughts on hostels forgotten. "Oh, sweetie, you're barely halfway there." 

"I know," I pouted, pulling my shirt down over my budding stomach. I was twenty weeks along, near the beginning of my fifth month, in my second trimester, and only halfway through. My belly was just starting to be visible to me under my boobs, and every day it seemed like I saw less and less of my toes. 

"Eh, don't worry," Mom said, standing from my bed. "Everything will be fine. Your toes will return, I promise." She wrapped me in a hug, which was just what I needed. 

"Thanks, Mom," I said, angling her towards the door. "It's so sweet of you to—" I shoved her out of the door and closed it quickly, before running to my bed. "Ha! I got my bed back!" 

"That's what _you_ think! I gave it to you!" 

"Whatever you say, Mom." 

"Goodnight, sweetie." 

"'Night." I smiled. She opened the door and leaned in quickly to turn my light off. 

"Night again," she whispered.

"Shh," I hissed. "We're sleeping." I reached to my stomach and put my hand on the side, at the spot where I'd felt it before. I waited a second, and then smiled as I felt the little flutter…like tons of butterflies tickling the inside of my stomach.  

++++++++

The next morning, after Mom dropped off all of the souvenirs we'd bought—I didn't feel it was time to share my news with Stars Hollow _quite _yet—Mom basically put a tent over my head—a "maternity shirt", she'd called it—and smuggled me across town to Sookie's, where we were greeted very excitedly.

"You're back!" Sookie squealed, rushing from the house. She looked a lot more pregnant than me, which made sense, since she was due in November and I was due in January. 

"We're back!" Mom responded, jumping up and down with her best friend. We all hugged, and then Jackson ran out of the house yelling at us about squishing baby. I'm assuming he meant Sookie's. He herded us into the house.

"I missed you guys so much!" Sookie said. 

"We missed you," Mom responded. 

"Ah, look at you!" Sookie turned to me. "You look older. And…pregnant." She turned back to Mom, just a tad shocked. "Lorelai? Um, am I just crazy, or is she…?"

Mom nodded slowly. "She is." 

"Ah! No! We're pregnant together!" Sookie grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. "Aw, that's so sweet!"

"Uh-huh," I said, shooting desperate looks to my mother. "Can't breathe, though."

"Whoops, Sook," Mom chuckled. "She needs to have that life-giving breath." 

"Oh, sorry." Sookie giggled and released me. 

"So, Sookie, what did the ultrasound say?" Mom asked. "Boy or girl?"

"It's a—" Sookie started, only to be cut off by her husband.

"Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh!" he protested, holding out his hand. 

"It's a buh?" Mom asked with a chuckle, glancing from Jackson to Sookie. "What's a buh?" 

Jackson proudly leaned closer to Mom, pointing to a metal button displayed on his chest. "Read," he commanded.

"I do not want to know the sex of my baby." 

"That's right. I'm going old school on this," Jackson continued proudly.

"And he's being completely stubborn," Sookie added with an eye roll.

"Jackson, seriously, you don't wanna know?" Mom asked. "I would have _loved _knowing when Rory was born." 

"Hey, in the old days, the guys would pace back and forth in the waiting room until a pretty nurse in a nice white outfit would come out and say, 'Congratulations! It's a "insert your chosen sex here".' Ricky Ricardo didn't know, Dick van Dyke didn't know, and by gum, if it's good enough for Rick and Dick, it's good enough for me!"

Mom, who had been staring at Jackson through his entire speech, turned back to Sookie and announced, "Well, I wanna know." 

"Rory, whaddya say?" Jackson asked, turning to me. "Be on my side."

"Jackson, there are no sides," Sookie said in an exasperated voice. 

"Sure," I said quickly, practically cutting Sookie off. "I'll be on your side." 

Mom stared at me, her mouth open. "You don't want to know the sex of your baby?"

I shook my head. "I like surprises."

"The pregnancy itself wasn't enough?" Mom asked, but not in a mean way. It was just a question.

"Mom, I don't have a lot of happiness coming towards me in my life. I'm just kinda hoping to be happily surprised by this. But go ahead, find out the sex of Sookie's baby." 

"I'll tell you outside, Lorelai," Sookie said happily, dragging Mom out of the house.

"Well, welcome to 1954," Jackson told me, handing me a button. 

"Happy to be here," I said, pinning it on. "So," I said after a minute of silence, "you hear about that whole Sputnik thing?" 

"Oh, Eisenhower's on top of it," Jackson nodded.

"Hmm. Damn commies," I muttered. 

++++++++

"It's a—" Mom said. 

"No," I cut her off.

"But it was so cute! She had—"

"Nope," I shook my head.

"Everything was done in—"

"Mom!" I stopped walking. She stopped next to me.

"Hey, what are you doing? We're in the middle of the street."

"Mom, please stop trying to tell me the sex of Sookie's baby. I don't wanna know. And I don't wanna know the sex of mine. So, you're just gonna have to get over it." 

"Fine." Mom pouted. "But it'll be your own fault when you give her a blanket in the wrong color." 

"Well, I promise not to do that," I nodded and continued walking. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go see Lane," I said after glancing Kim's Antiques.

"Okay," Mom said slowly. "But if you don't show up at home in an hour, I'm calling the police and reporting Mrs. Kim for a murder." 

"Hide from Mrs. Kim. Got it." I smiled, and started walking away. Then I turned back and yelled, "_Please_ don't give him the jam."

"What? I can't hear you," Mom said with a grin, holding up Luke's "French jam" and waving it at me.

I shook my head, and continued into Kim's Antiques. "Hello?" I called, entering the store. 

"Rory!" I heard a squeal from around the corner, and then I was almost knocked into the door by a blur. 

"Hey," I laughed. "How are you?"

"I'm great! You're home! You're…about to die!" She glanced frantically around downstairs, and then pulled me upstairs after her, as quickly as her legs would allow her. "What happened to you?" she asked the second her door closed. 

"Remember Kyle's party?" I asked.

"Oh, God," she groaned. "In here." She pulled me into her closet, where we both plopped on adjacent cushions and faced each other. She leaned over and slipped a CD into her radio, turning it up as loud as she dared. 

"Talk," she demanded, staring alternately at my blossoming stomach and me.

"All right. Remember Kyle's party?" 

She nodded.

"Remember when I told you Jess and I had sex?" 

Her eyes got really big and her mouth dropped open. "Uh-huh," she nodded.

"Yeah, that's when it happened."

"Wow," Lane whispered, now openly staring at my stomach. "I…I can't believe you didn't tell me!" She hit me on the shoulder. "That's so wrong!"

"I know!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I really haven't told that many people. I mean, Mom and Dad and I have been in Europe for three months." 

"Is your dad still in town? I mean, I'd heard that you guys were in town, but I didn't hear anything about your dad." 

I shook my head. "He went back to Boston. He and Sherry were having some trouble or something, and I think he's going back to 'work it out' after three and a half months." 

"'Or something', huh? Sounds like he might come back for good." 

"Yeah, it does." I smiled. "That might be kinda nice. I mean, with me pregnant and going off to college and all that." 

"Wow. That's still just weird. You're…pregnant." She shook her head. "My mother will never let me talk to you again if she finds out." 

"So, don't let her find out." 

"In Stars Hollow?" she raised her eyebrows at me and smirked. "That'll happen. Besides, I almost can't wait until she finds out. She's already heard that Zach and Brian aren't going to college, and she's still apprehensive about the whole 'I'm in a band thing'. Ooh, did I tell you? Dave left." 

"What?" I asked, my jaw involuntarily dropping.

"Yeah," she nodded, "he ran off to California to go to college." 

"Where'd he go? UCLA?" 

"I'm not sure…I'm hoping Stanford, so I can tell my mom I'm dating a guy in the Ivy League, but I think he's somewhere in the LA area." 

"I'm so sorry," I said sincerely.

"About what?" she asked, surprised. 

"About not being here for you. About not telling you. About not being the best friend I could be." At the last word my voice broke, and I could feel the tears bubbling behind my eyes. Lane glanced at me worriedly, and quickly handed me a box of tissues. I laughed. "Hormones," I said simply, gesturing to my stomach and back up to my face. She nodded solemnly, and then laughed too.

"I have no idea how I'm going to get you out of this house alive!"

"Me either!" I laughed.

And so we just sat there for a few minutes, laughing, until we came to our senses and hatched a plan to get me out of her house alive. I ended up hiding in the bathroom until Lane had called Mrs. Kim to her room; when the door closed, I hurried down the stairs and out of the house. 

++++++++

I was sprawled on the couch watching the latest episode of some soap opera—Quentin, a.k.a. the guy whose name I didn't know, had just found out about the infidelity of Mary, the girl whose name I didn't know, with Justin, the other guy whose name I didn't know—when Mom rushed into the house and quickly turned the TV off, standing in front of it.

"Hey! I was watching that! Quentin was about to kill Justin! And what is with them never mentioning names when referring to people? I have no idea what's going on." 

"We've been spotted!" 

I gasped. "Hide the IDs! Pull the curtains! Hide under the covers!" 

"This is serious, Rory! Miss Patty saw you leaving Lane's house." Mom sat next to me on the couch and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know how difficult this is for you." 

I sighed. "She really saw me?" I asked. Mom nodded. "All right," I sighed, "we have to tell people. Call Taylor, see if he'll let us call a town meeting." 

Mom gasped. "You're really gonna tell people?"

"What else can I do?" I asked. "If we ignore it, Miss Patty will just tell everyone her own ideas on what happened, and then we'll get townies gathered around the windows every second of the day, and we'll eventually have to tell them. I should just get it over with." 

"Okay," Mom said, staring at me. After a minute, her face burst into a huge smile and she grabbed me in a hug. "I'm _so_ proud of you! You're like a miniature adult!" 

"Thanks, Mom," I laughed. 

"Hello?" a voice asked from the door. "Is anyone home?" 

"Dad's home," I told Mom as we separated.

"Is that what that noise was?" Mom asked as we walked from the living room to the entryway, only to find Dad covered in luggage. "Um, whatcha doin'?" she asked to my relief. At least, if he hadn't told me, he hadn't told Mom anything either. 

"Movin' in," he said matter-of-factly, dropping his suitcases. He stepped over one pile to settle a kiss on Mom's cheek. "Help me?" he asked, grabbing her hand as he headed outside. Mom shot me a confused look. I knew that later we would be talking about whether Dad was messed up in the head, or just crazy enough to come back. 

But for right now, Mom was helping him move his boxes and boxes of CDs in, and I was spared. Just in time to see what was going on with Quentin. 

++++++++

"Hey, are you asleep?" Mom asked, poking her head in my door. 

"No," I said. "Come on in." 

I was lying on my bed, my hand on my stomach, staring at the ceiling in the dark. 

"Scoot over," Mom commanded, trying to slide into bed next to me. I did, and then curled into her. 

"So tell me what's going on with Dad." 

She sighed. "I don't know. I kept trying to ask him, but he kept avoiding the question. He's moved into my room, by the way." 

"I figured." 

"Yeah. So for an entire twenty minutes after dinner, he kept saying, 'Isn't this great, Lor? Isn't it wonderful?' And I kept saying, 'Well, sure it is, Chris, but why are you here?' and he kept saying, 'Isn't this great, Lor? Isn't this wonderful?' So I think it's something big that he doesn't want to tell me yet." She shook her head. "Oh, but I'll force it out of him. If it takes me weeks and weeks, I'll do it. And if I don't like the reason, I'm kickin' him out." 

I smiled in the dark. "So you're focusing on being nice in his time of need?"

"If it's a bad reason for a time of need, he's out." 

"It's kind of okay having him here, though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Mom said softly, her voice changing. I could tell by her tone that she was smiling widely. "It _is _kind of okay." 

++++++++

Somehow, we managed to curtail the town-wide emergency meeting for three weeks, until the night before I was set to head off to Yale. Which was, by the way, a week earlier than I thought. I wrote down the date wrong! How did I do that? I mean, I guess maybe the fact that I was _pregnant_ when I did that might have something to do with it, but still. I wrote it down wrong! Me! You know, they say that the mind is the first thing to go. 

++++++++

"_That_ was a harrowing experience," Mom exclaimed, plopping onto the couch. I plopped next to her, and settled my head on her shoulder. 

"Mommy, make them go away," I moaned. 

"Aw, sweetie. That's what you get for telling them." She settled an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to her. "It's your own fault that they're now throwing you a baby shower." 

"But I don't _want_ one!" I wailed.

"I know. But hey—at least they're going to help load Luke's truck for driving to Yale tomorrow." 

"Why are you taking Luke's truck anyway? You can't drive stick."

"Ah, but see, Luke doesn't know that." 

I rolled my eyes. "When you wreck his truck and he never talks to you again, I'm going to point and laugh." 

"Then I've obviously taught you well," Mom laughed. 

I sighed. "What are we going to do with Dad?" 

Mom sighed, too. "I don't know. I haven't really had a chance to talk to him. I don't have any idea what's going through his head right now." 

"You need to do that as soon as possible," I commanded. 

"Yes, ma'am!" Mom saluted, and then leaned her head on top of mine. "You know I love you, right? I mean, a lot." 

I smiled. "I know. I love you too." 

"I knew that. But I just wanted to tell you again. Because I know when I was where you are right now, I didn't feel like my parents loved me that much. And I want you to know that you are loved. A _lot_."

"As shown by the town meeting." 

"Mm, yes, very much. And I also don't want you to run away, like I did."

"I promise—no, I solemnly swear to not run away after my baby is born." 

"Good." Mom hugged me quickly, and then said, "Alright, move. I gotta get up."

"Aww!" 

"C'mon, you can go to your room and finish packing. We head off to Yale in the morning!"

"I know. Why can't we stay like this for a while, though?" 

"Because I need to talk to your dad. Don't worry, I'll sneak into your room at some point and tell you all about my conversations." 

"Okay." I let go of Mom and sat up. She kissed my forehead quickly and then headed out of the house, grabbing her jacket as she went. I sat on the couch for a moment, trying to decide whether I should revert to my now time-honored friend, the television, or try to shy the brain rot away until after at least the first day of classes. After a minute, the baby kicked me, and when I glanced down, I even _saw _it, so I decided to turn on my computer and find a website or two about pregnancy. 

After I signed in, my computer decided to tell me that it'd been improperly shut down. I groaned, because I knew that this would take _forever_. I took the fifteen minutes or so to re-read a brochure I'd left on my dresser. It was from ninth grade, and I'd been going through all of my old school things in preparation for leaving high school when I'd found it. It talked all about the different things that could cause your period to be late. The reason I'd kept it, however, was because of the conversation scrawled around the edges: Lane and I had been utterly bored during what had been our third speech that "Prevent Destructive Decisions" week, and we'd taken to having written conversations on the brochures they'd handed out. I was almost entirely sure we had a conversation about the Founder's Day Punch on the one about not drinking and driving somewhere.  

"One document recovered," the computer dinged at me. 

A little curious—I didn't remember turning the computer off wrong, let alone while writing something—I clicked on it, and up came a letter. From…Jess. Yeah.

Rory— 

_Surprise. _

_You may be wondering how on earth this letter made it onto your computer. The thing is, I sort of am in your room right now, writing this letter. You're not here. I knew you wouldn't be here, because you're in Europe with your mom. _

_I've already seen Luke, and he's ordered me out of town forever. This is a sign that I will be out of town forever. I'm writing this to tell you a few things, tie up a few loose ends, and hopefully this will end without you being _too _mad at me._

_I said I'd call you. I did. I just didn't say anything, as I'm sure you've ascertained, judging by what you said to me the last time I called. _

_You were right. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say a _lot _of things. I don't know if I'm going to get to all of them in this letter—we'll see. I'll try. _

_I know I didn't handle things right. I _hate _that I didn't handle things right. I wish I had; I wish it all could have been different. But the truth is, it's not different, it's not going to be different, and I should just get over it. _

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything, but I didn't think it was that big a deal until it was too big a deal, and then I didn't feel like bothering you with what I was sure you would think as my frivolous little problems. However, to remedy that, I'm now going to tell you everything. _

_I stopped going to school. Well, really, I stopped paying attention in school, and when I realized I was failing out, I stopped going. I got a job at Wal-Mart. I can't remember if I told you that or not; Luke knew. Did he tell you? Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I worked at Wal-Mart, and at one point won Employee of the Month. _

_While I was skipping school doing that, the good principal at Stars Hollow High was stamping "KICK HIM OUT, DON'T LET HIM GRADUATE" on my permanent record. So…they didn't let me graduate. And if you don't graduate, you don't get to buy prom tickets. That's one reason we couldn't go to prom._

_And the other reason we couldn't go to prom: I left. Bailed. I'm sure you remember. _

_My dad came. He didn't say much, just kind of showed up and told me who he was. Not long after that, I sort of ended up yelling at Luke, who yelled back. He also kicked me out. So I left, you know? Didn't think anyone wanted me there. _

_My dad's place is actually pretty nice. He owns a hot dog stand that he's obsessive about, which is kind of weird. He lives with his girlfriend and his girlfriend's kid. They're okay. Actually, they're all three strange, but they're easy enough to live with. Jimmy's got an entire room filled with books and records, and I've spent a lot of the summer just going through them. I left them a few days ago, coming to see you—or actually, your house—and I don't know if I'm going back…I think I'm going to stop in at my mom's soon, because I haven't seen her in a while. _

_I don't know why I'm still writing this letter. I also don't know if you're still reading. I just wanted you to know what I've been doing, thinking. Just wanted to get my thoughts out to you somehow. I hope this has accomplished that._

_I hope you're good, too. _

_Jess._

Oh, I hated him now. I hated him, hated him, hated him, hated him with a _passion _like no other…but….

"Ooooh! Boys!" I moaned, quickly shutting my computer off—the right way—and closing it. I slid it into my computer bag and settled the bag on my shoulder, messenger-bag style, so that the strap was cutting across my now-twenty-three-weeks pregnant stomach. I edged out of the house and opened the front door of my Prius to put the bag in. I leaned across the seat and settled it into the passenger seat, on the floor. As I was easing back out, I noticed a piece of paper on the driver seat. I picked it up, unfolded it, and saw Jess's loopy handwriting. I balled it up quickly. 

"Boys," I muttered again.

But the truth is, I settled the ball of paper into my pocket. And I left it there, hoping that maybe I'd forget about it and see it later and read it and wouldn't hate him anymore. Because I didn't _really _hate him. Just…hated him. Or, strongly disliked. Or only mildly disliked. Or only kinda sorta disliked. Or liked. Or liked him a lot. Or, maybe, I even still kinda loved him. 

I sighed. "Boys. Mood swings. Why would God torture us with both of those?" I glanced up at the heavens, hoping for an answer, but found none. 

++++++++

"Okay, now…say 'cheese!'" Mom exclaimed.

"Cheese," I said half-heartedly, my now-pasted on smile looking a little worse for the wear, I could tell.

"I'm not happy," she pouted after blinding me.

"Why?" I asked, blinking.

"It looks posed," she complained.

"It _is_ posed," I pointed out. 

"I know, but it's not supposed to _look_ posed." 

"Lemme try," up-till-now silent Dad said, pulling the camera from Mom's hands. "Go pick up your backpack or something and walk out of your room, and then go ahead and walk out of the front door," he commanded, pointing to my room.

"Okay," I said. 

"Okay, you can try," Mom started, "but make sure to only get her so you can't tell she's pregnant. 'Cause that's an easy way to ruin a goin'-off-to-college shot. You know, 'this was the day she headed off to Yale. Yeah, she's awfully preggers, huh?' I mean, that's gonna be an embarrassing explanation all on its own."

"Done!" Dad announced, handing the camera back to Mom.

"What? What'd you do? I only saw about four flashes. Lemme tell ya, that's not good enough." She looked over the shots he'd taken in the camera. "Wow, these are…these are good." She looked at Dad. "Evil. Why'd you have to take over camera duties? Now I look like a bad camera person."

"No, of course not, Lor. You could never look like a bad anything."

"Aw. Well, you're gonna have to stay around for a little while. Don't you think so, Rory?"

I smiled at how happy my mom was. "Yeah." 

"Good. You've been vindicated, Chris. You're here to stay for a little while." 

"Good," Dad smiled.

++++++++

Mom allowed me to drive my own car to Yale; I was very surprised. Actually, I was a little more surprised that I was allowed to get out of the town without three or four hangers-on. I had to forcibly pry Kirk off the passenger door before leaving town.

When I pulled up at Yale, I had to wait for Dad to crawl out of the last parking space available, which happened to be right behind Luke's truck. 

"Nice score," I announced, after parking.

"Thanks," Dad said, using the paper towel Mom handed him to wipe the ketchup from his forehead. "We thought it was a pretty nice touch." 

"Yep, dead person in the only empty parking spot. That won't scare any freshmen too much. I mean, _I _certainly wasn't scared." 

"Don't be so passive-aggressive," Mom chided. 

"I'm sorry. Don't be so scary!" 

"It's hard, I'm sorry!" 

"Name?" some girl popped up behind Dad's shoulder and asked.

"Rory Gilmore," I said quickly. 

"Rory Gilmore, Rory Gilmore," she muttered, flipping pages on her clipboard. "There you are. Welcome to Yale," she said, holding out her hand. I reached my own to shake it, but my mom announced, "Hold the shake! Hold the shake!"

"Mom," I groaned, rolling my eyes. 

"Chris, take the picture, take the picture!" Mom commanded, shoving the camera at Dad's chest. 

"Sorry," I told the girl whose hand I was still holding, in an awkward 'about-to-shake' position.

"It's okay," she said. "Happens all the time." 

"Okay, shake!" Dad announced, the camera plastered to his face. We did, and then gladly and quickly let go of each other's hands. 

"Hello, Rory. I'm Tess, I'm your freshmen counselor. I'll be living in the building and there for whatever you need. Now, I'm sure you've informed the college about your special…circumstances?" Tess asked, her eyebrows raised and her thoughts on my stomach, I could tell. 

"Of course," Mom nodded. "They've been informed a few times over, too." Mom chuckled, and she sounded a little uncomfortable.

"Right," Tess nodded. She returned her attention to me. "I'll be giving a tour for Durfee girls you should not miss."

"Yeah, at twelve, right? Followed by the optional express lunch twelve to two, which is all followed by the telecommunications orientation and internet ID distribution, parents' reception eleven to one."

"Uh-huh," Tess nodded again. "You memorized the schedule."

"She's not weird or anything. She just has a really good memory," Mom said quickly.

"Of course. Well, get your camera ready."

"Why?" Dad asked. 

"Just do it, Christopher. Stop asking." 

"I'm giving Rory her key," Tess said, before plopping the key into my hand unceremoniously, smiling stupidly for the camera. Dad snapped a few more pictures.

"Thanks again," he called as Tess wandered off, walking up to random girls and asking, "Name?"

"Well, _that_ was fun," Mom said. "Grab a bag," she instructed Dad. 

"I was wondering how long it would be before my pregnancy was pointed out," I said. I was carrying my bookbag and laptop computer bag, but Dad took them both away from me so I was empty-handed.

"Didn't have to wait too long, didya?" Mom smiled a tight smile. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But I'm really proud that you're so determined to do this, even after everything that's happened."

"Well, you've worked really hard to get me here. So've I. I _deserve_ this." 

"Damn right, you do!" Dad smiled. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and planted a kiss on my head. "I'm proud of ya too, Ror." 

"Thanks, Dad." I smiled back, and we headed to my room. 

++++++++

After Tess's tour and receiving of my various student IDs, I wandered back into my room. A quiet younger girl followed me and plopped onto a seat in the common room. I moved my suitcase from the floor to the bed, so I could start unpacking, and then just gave up.

"Hi," I said, exiting the room and walking in front of the girl. "I'm Rory Gilmore. I guess we're suitemates." 

The girl stood up and said, "I'm Tanna Schrick. You're pregnant." 

"Oh, uh-huh," I nodded, placing my hand on my stomach. "That means I'm gonna move out during the second semester."

"Oh. I'm adopted." 

"Oh. I'm not." This girl was kinda strange, but oddly endearing.

"As they're ransacking your room, professional thieves typically start at the bottom drawer and work their way up. That way they don't have to close drawers before opening the next one. Saves time." She nodded, as if reiterating her point.

"Huh," I nodded. "That's nice."

"I'm not so great at extemporaneous speaking, so I've memorized some quick conversational facts I can whip out at a moment's notice. Oh, when I get to know you better, I'll memorize some facts that are more specific to your person."

"Good. That shows…something, I dunno. How old are you?"

"Sixteen." She smiled.

"Sixteen," I repeated.

"On Tuesday," she nodded. 

"Well. Happy Birthday." 

"Thank you."

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go finish unpacking." 

"Okay," Tanna said, sitting back down and commencing her staring at the wall. When I walked out of my room ten minutes later, she was still there. 

++++++++

My parents left not long after I'd introduced myself to Tanna. Mom was babbling about buying me more stuff. I clung desperately to the idea that Dad could talk her out of it, but I had a feeling I would be seeing Mom at least once more before she let me stay at Yale all by myself. 

Luckily, I got a _big _surprise that took my thoughts off of my mom for a long time. 

"Um, another suitemate has arrived," Tanna announced after timidly knocking on my door. 

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, putting my last shirt into the dresser and standing up. 

"Yeah," Tanna nodded. "She's a little weird." 

I stifled a smile at the idea of Tanna calling someone weird. 

"Um, I've already forgotten her name. I'm a _disaster_ with names." 

"That's okay." I started to walk out of my room. 

"It's the name of a city, like Athens or Rome or something." 

I stopped and stared. Paris was standing in the middle of the common room, three suitcases around her feet. "Paris?" I asked.

"Gilmore," she nodded at me, calm and collected. "Wow, you're—you're really pregnant, aren't you?"

I nodded. "That's what happens after a while. What are you doing here?" 

"I go here. Sorry, I'm about to regress into a _Legally Blonde_ moment. I'm going to Yale, too. We're roommates." 

"Oh, good. Someone I know." I sighed, and then smiled. "It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah. It is." She smiled back, and then ducked her head to stare at her luggage. "Jamie's supposed to be here in a sec. He went to get more stuff out of the car." 

"That's so sweet! You've got him doing menial labor already." 

"Yeah, I'm good at delegating authority like that." Paris beamed. "Can't wait to tackle the staff of the _Daily News_." 

"You'll be editor before long," I smiled. 

"That's the idea." Paris grinned, and then leaned over and hugged me quickly. "I'm glad you're still coming here. It's…really amazing, you know? I don't think I'd be able to do the same in your shoes." 

"Mm, try to tell that to me in a week or two. It's only been six hours and already my feet feel like they're about to fall off." 

"Well, you should sit. Get off your feet. Knowing you, you're through unpacking already." 

I smiled. "You remembered."

"You, Gilmore, are hard to forget." 

"As are you, Gellar." 

"I'm Schrick," Tanna said suddenly. 

++++++++

"Mom!" I screamed forty minutes later, standing outside the doors of the dorm. 

"What? What?" she asked, running up. 

"I missed you!" I yelled, throwing my arms around her and squeezing.

"Okay, whoa! Maybe the pregnancy hormones, mixed with all the moving, has got you a little homesick?"

"Where have you _been?_ I thought you'd be here twenty minutes ago!"

"Oh, really?" Mom raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realize I was expected."

"I knew you were coming back," I said dismissively. "It took you a long time!" 

"Oh, poor baby. I'm sorry." We stood there for a few more minutes, entwined in a hug, until she said, "Okay, let's maybe move this more into the suite."

"Okay," I said. 

"Okay," she whispered. The second we crossed the threshold I threw my arms around her again. 

"Spend the night," I said desperately.

"Wow. First, you have to promise to never say those words like that _ever_ to a person of the male persuasion." 

"Okay. Stay." 

"All right, all right. I'll stay."

"Good!" I grinned and tightened my grip. 

++++++++

"So, how are things with your boys?" I asked that night. I was lying on my new mattress, on my new bed, in my new room at Yale. 

Mom, lying on the mattress on the floor, sighed. "Boys are sucky." 

"Dad still won't tell you what he's doing in town?"

"Oh. Yeah, he said that he's afraid Sherry's cheating on him. Of course, he didn't say anything about whether he'd talked to her about it." 

"Maybe he ran." 

"Yeah, this family's great at the running thing." She sighed again. "I don't know. I feel like I should just welcome him being around a lot. I mean, he helped us move you in. But, you know, he won't open up to me!"

"Maybe you should conveniently lock yourselves into a tiny space and force yourself to work out all of your problems."

"This isn't TV, kid. Not that that's such a bad idea. It's just a little extreme." 

"Yeah. I guess. I kinda wish I could lock myself into a tiny space with someone and force him to help me work out all of our problems." I grumbled. "Boys _are_ sucky."

"Aw, sweets. You could always just ask Luke for his address." 

"No, it's fine. He just…he left me this letter, talking all about how why he left. But he never really said why he left, you know?" I sighed. "It's just complicated, and I kinda just wish I didn't have to think about him ever again."

"No offense, babe, but I've felt the same about Chris quite a few times." 

I sighed, this time feeling tears at the corners of my eyes. "Does it ever get easier?" I asked, my voice breaking. I was a second away from blubbering, I could tell.

"Oh, honey." Mom crawled from the floor and tried to squeeze herself onto the bed next to me. She wrapped her arms around me. "Don't worry. At some point, you'll have a wonderful kid just like I do, and then you'll think it's all worth it. I promise." She planted a kiss in my hair. "It's all worth it." 

I nodded, keeping myself wrapped in a nice little Mom-cocoon. After a few minutes, Mom spoke up again.

"You know what Luke did this summer?"

"What?" I asked, silently saying 'segues are for kids.' Mom doesn't seem to understand that not everyone is in her head, following her thoughts.

"He got married, and now he's getting divorced."

"Wow," I said quietly. 

"Yeah. Isn't that big? I was amazed when he told me." 

"I guess so. But what does that have to do with you?" I asked pointedly. She shouldn't have been stressing herself out about both Dad _and _Chris. She was gonna get an ulcer one of these days.

"I…I don't know," she said, caught off-guard. "I was just thinkin' about him, I guess."

"Uh-huh." 

"Hey. No judgmental noises here. This is a non-judgmental area," Mom commanded.

"Okay," I said, sniffling a little again. 

Mom kissed my forehead. "I love you. _So_ much."

"Love you, too," I murmured, starting to drift off. 


	7. The Leeopolises

Title: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Six: The Leeopolis…es…?

Time Frame: I suppose it's right around early to mid-October.

A/N: I promise, I will totally have more soon. And more quickly. Just…be happy that my computer decided to be nice to me tonight…that's the only reason you have this. :D

-----

"What did you _do_?" Mom demanded to know, reaching her hand to touch my hair. I simultaneously hit her hand and touched my hair.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I just…cut it."

"But why?"

"Do you know how hot it is?" I asked, leveling a gaze at her.

"Granted," she gave me, "but you didn't ask."

"What? Why should I have to ask you?"

"You know what I mean. You didn't tell me first."

"I'm _so_ sorry," I said mock-apologetically. "I forgot I had to run all decisions by you first." Then a thought hit me, and I asked worriedly, "Do you like it?" I put my hand back up to the shorter end of my hair.

"If I don't, will you put it back?"

"Mom," I sighed, dropping my hand.

"Yes, it's very pretty." She smiled.

"Thank you. Was that so hard?"

"Yes, very," she said, nodding.

I smiled, and then tried to get the conversation away from me. "How're you and Dad adjusting?"

She shrugged and leaned deeper into the couch, throwing her head back. "It's hard."

"I'll bet."

"I mean, we're just barely readjusting to each other. He won't…." She sighed. "He won't _talk_ to me. And I can't…I can't handle it. I _need _to know why the hell he left Sherry. I need to know if they talked it out or if he just walked out. If he just walked out, I don't think I can trust him to stay anymore. I mean, what's to say he won't do the same to us? But, you know, we had a great time in Europe. You know, you were there."

I nodded, keeping my eyes on her.

"But that was _Europe_. That wasn't _here, _where we know people and people know us and most of them know our history, and I don't know if Chris is doomed to repeat history forever and ever, and I just wish he would talk to me, but he won't, and instead he drives three hours to work, works for four hours, and drives three hours back. And I don't know if he's seeing his other daughter at all, and I know he's hardly seeing you, and when he gets here all he wants to do is go to bed, and usually with me, and I can't do this, and I wish I could figure out a way to make this work, because it's killing me. It won't work like this for much longer. It just won't. I can tell these things, you know. I'm psychic."

"Since when?" I asked, hoping to steer away from the more serious parts of that monologue.

"Since I slipped in the shower this morning." She smiled at the joke quickly. "It's also common knowledge. This strained relationship will kill us before too long."

"Aw. I like you un-killed."

Mom finally looked up, and smiled. "And I like you un-killed, too. And I also like the fact that I'm not the one paying for you to go to that big fancy school and learn words like 'un-killed'."

"Hey! I have hormones," I protested, gesturing to my stomach, which was just over six months big. And six months big? Is _big_.

Mom smiled her patient pregnancy smile. "Everyone has hormones, sweet. Yours are just pregnant. That makes them bigger."

I laughed, and then yelled. "Ah! I was being indignant."

"I know. I tricked you into laughing. And somehow, I can even do that without ever having gone to a big fancy school like Yale." She held her arms up in a shrug of disbelief, shaking her head.

I tried to stare at her meanly, but she kept shaking her head in that stupid little pose, and I soon burst out laughing.

------

I only had two classes. _Two. _I was originally gonna take, like, five, but then I got pregnant, so I was only gonna take three, but then I got here and I was very pregnant and I wasn't feeling well the day we did course selection, so I only got two.

Now, my two classes were actually giving me the right amount of hours I needed each week—barely—but they were so stretched out and so much less than Paris's workload that I never saw her. I usually ended up sitting around the common room, reading What To Expect When You're Expecting or watching one of the endless list of movies Mom kept sending me to watch that had even the tiniest little thing to do with pregnancy.

I was in the middle of my third viewing of _Nine Months_, one of the more aptly-picked titles, What to Expect When You're Expecting spread out on my lap, my homework settled next to me, when I suddenly stopped the movie, put the book on top of my homework, and left the suite.

----

I walked for maybe an hour before finally getting tired enough to want to sit down. I still passed about four benches, choosing instead to go to this little café I spotted across the street.

The smell of coffee was overpowering the second I walked into the café. I still wasn't allowed to have an actual cup of coffee, according to Dr. Robinson and our last visit, but she'd said I could have coffee-flavored things, or stuff with a small amount of coffee. Because of this, I was thrilled to no end when I saw "Coffee-Chocolate-Cheesecake" listed on the menu. I immediately ordered the biggest piece, along with a warm milk.

The very first bite I took was so coffee-y that I was bowled over—the last time I'd had something coffee-flavored was in Belgium, when Mom had left her coffee on the table for half a second while standing up to get more chocolate, and Dad had been in the bathroom. I'd stolen her cup and taken the smallest sip known to man when Mom snatched it from me and yelled, "NO COFFEE FOR BABY!!" loud enough for Jackson, whom she was imitating, to hear, all the way back in the States.

Halfway through the piece, I was feeling a little light-headed. I didn't know whether it was the coffee, or the excitement from the coffee, or what, but I laid my fork down, got up for water, and then settled into my seat, leaving my cheesecake for later. Without anything to do—I'd left everything in the suite—I glanced around and noticed independent newspapers in the corner boasting news on the arts. Shrugging, I waddled over and picked a paper up, before waddling back to my seat and plopping down.

Yeah, that too. I was waddling now. _Waddling_. Like a duck. I was like a duck. I was like a five-foot-seven blue-eyed brunette fat duck, waddling everywhere. It was the most embarrassing on campus, where I _lived_, waddling down halls and through the campus. My third trimester was quickly approaching every day, and the next thing I knew I'd be in a hospital bed screaming with pain.

I looked forward to _that_ every…single…day.

Trying to get my mind off of my stupid wandering thoughts, I opened the newspaper to the first page, which happened to be the page full of ads. Of course, almost every page was full of ads, but I picked the one without _any _substance at all. I flipped the pages idly, and then suddenly stopped as something caught my eye.

**Are you between the ages of 14 and 25?**

**The mother or soon-to-be mother of a small child?**

**Tired and lonely in your time of need?**

**WE CAN HELP!**

**We are all in your shoes, too!**

**We know how you feel!**

**Come to the young mothers group!**

**Monday 6:30 pm, Tuesdays 5:30 pm, Wednesdays 7:00 pm, Thursdays8:00 pm, Saturdays 10:00 am and 9:00 pm. **

**Children welcome at all meetings!**

I glanced at my watch. Seven. And I knew it was Monday, so…. "Aw, damn," I muttered, secretly relieved. "Guess I can't make it! I'll wait till next Monday."

I ripped the small ad out and tucked it into my pocket, promising myself to ask opinions on it before deciding whether or not to go.

-----

There was a knock on the suite door—a frantic, hardly pausing knock, one that made you think the knocker was in some mortal peril and if you opened the door a second too late, their blood would be splattered all over the walls of the hallway.

And maybe _Identity _had less to do with pregnancy and more with giving me wacko thoughts and really bad nightmares.

Anyway, so there was a knock on the door, and all four of us—we were all somehow in the common room, all doing random things—said simultaneously, "It's your turn."

I glanced to the left of me, where Tanna was sitting in a chair, staring at the TV screen.

"Hey, Tanna?"

"Huh?" she asked, directing the words toward me but keeping her eyes on the television.

"Do you think you could get that? Janet's doing push-ups, and Paris is doing homework, and I don't feel like waddling."

"Okay," Tanna said, standing and walking to the door. I watched as she opened it, and happily stood up when I saw who it was.

"Lane!" I said, waddling over. I wrapped her in a hug, thrilled to see my best friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," she started, rolling her suitcase over the threshold, "funny you should ask."

-----

The next thing I knew, Lane, my mom, and I were sitting around the kitchen table, back in Stars Hollow, and Lane was re-telling her story.

"Zach and Brian and I were in New York checking out other bands, and we were supposed to be home by nine, like I'd told my mom, but there was some kind of major accident on something somewhere, and we were completely stuck. We couldn't find a single way to even get onto the road, let alone actually go anywhere. So I tried to find a bus, but the buses were all behind. Finally we all chipped in and got me a train ticket into Hartford, where I got a bus into Stars Hollow, but by the time I got home it was almost eleven. I walked into my room and my mom had found everything."

"_Everything_?" Mom asked, her eyes wide. I nodded solemnly, along with Lane. I'd had the same exact reaction the first time through, also.

"Everything. She'd spied a loose floorboard and pried it up, and found my CDs there, and somehow she found all my false bottoms and little niches and…she got into my closet."

"Oh, God," Mom shuddered. "That place is, like, the anti-Mrs. Kim haven."

"I know. Everything in there is the exact opposite of what my mom wants. I mean, even though she's known about the band for a few months, she still doesn't approve, and now she _really_ doesn't approve. I mean, she even found my makeup kit." Lane shook her head. "I asked if she'd let me stay there, since she knew everything, and we could have no secrets and I could stop going to Seventh Day Adventist and—she said 'Children do not make the rules. You may move out and live like that somewhere else.'" I saw the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. I grabbed her with one arm and hugged her; Mom did the same.

"Aw, sweetie. You know you can always stay with me."

Lane, fully crying now, nodded into our shoulders. "Thank you so much, Lorelai."

"Anytime, hon. Anytime."

-----

"Mom?" I asked, pushing her bedroom door open late that night. She muttered something in her sleep and rolled over. I edged into her room and towards her bed, shutting the door and the small ray of light out. I slid under her covers, leaning my head on her shoulder. "Mom?" I asked again.

"Rory?" she muttered.

"Yeah," I responded. She maneuvered her arms until she was wrapping me in them, and I snuggled towards her.

"This is a change," she commented. "Usually I'm the one crawling in bed with you."

"I have to ask you a question," I said.

"Mmm, what is it, sweetie?"

"Today I was reading this newspaper, and there was an ad for a young mothers group. I was just wondering—should I go?"

"Do you want to?"

"Maybe," I said. "I'm not sure. I mean, it might be nice to meet people my own age in my same situation, but it might be a little weird."

"Yeah. I dunno. If you want to, you should. It's probably a good idea, though."

"Lane said the same thing. I asked her on the car ride here."

"Is she asleep down there?"

"Yep. She's curled on the couch, the blanket covering every inch of her."

"How's she doin'?" Mom asked quietly.

"Okay," I shrugged. "She stopped crying not long after you went to bed, and then we just talked about nothing in particular, but mainly Dave and Jess, before she drifted off."

"How _is _Dave?"

"In California."

"And Jess?"

I shrugged again.

"As I thought," Mom said softly. "Still haven't told him, huh?"

I shook my head.

"Ror, sweetie, he'll be back here eventually. Luke _is _his uncle; they _are _family. I think he might wonder if you have a baby born nine months after you guys had sex."

"I can always say it's yours."

"You will not. If you do, somehow, somewhere, it will get back to my mother, and then we shall all die. Besides, even if he doesn't see you, you _know _the second Miss Patty sees him, she'll tell him all about it."

"Well, then, I'll just have to keep him away from Miss Patty."

"Oh, honey," Mom sighed. "Just…call him. Write him. E-mail him. Do _something_. He needs to know."

"I know," I said uncomfortably, starting to squirm. "I know."

"Good. You should." Mom planted a kiss smack-dab on the top of my head. "Get some sleep. You need it."

"Okay," I said, remaining where I was. Mom kissed my head one more time, and then rolled back over. I lay there, on my side, my knees curled as close to my stomach as they could be, staring at Mom's open closet. Jess should know. Jess _should _know. He should.

-----

After asking every single person I knew their opinion on the young mothers group, I finally decided to go Saturday night at 9:10. Figuring I could find the place quickly, I headed out right then. Unfortunately, it took me half an hour to locate the general area of the place, and I didn't make it to the building till around 9:45.

As I got closer, my face fell. The place looked completely deserted. The lights were off and the door was closed. When I reached it, I tugged desperately for a few minutes, and then sighed. I'd finally gotten my courage up to go to this group, and the door was locked.

"You here for the young mothers group?" a voice asked. I spun around, and noticed a faint orange spot glowing in the darkness of the side of the building.

"Yeah?" I answered, a little apprehensively.

"Sorry, hon, they're done for tonight." There was a sharp intake of breath, and then the owner of the voice walked forward into the light.

It was a woman about my age—maybe a little older, but she didn't look a day over 22. She was wearing a knee-length skirt that looked like it'd been made from an old pair of jeans. It had legs like jeans, but the middle was a light pink cotton print. Her shirt was blue peasant. It had an empire waist, and the hem fell at the top of her skirt. The sleeves were long and ended in ruffles, making her look very Prince-like. She had one sleeve tucked into her hand, and that same hand was holding a lit cigarette in front of her mouth.

"The only reason I'm still here is I came out for a smoke break." She laughed. "Then they all started matriculating out here, and now they're gone." She smiled at me. "First day?"

I nodded.

"Don't worry, they'll be here next week. They're a good bunch of people, too. Very nice."

I nodded again. I didn't really know what to do.

"Hey, you okay?" She looked at me, kinda worried. "You wanna go get some pie or something? We can talk if you want to."

I paused. She stared at me nicely, a slight pleasant smile on her lips. She certainly didn't look or seem evil, and she was a young mother too. Maybe we could find something to talk about. I slowly smiled. "Sure. I'm Rory Gilmore, by the way," I added, sticking out my hand.

"I'm Iliana Leeopolis," she said, shaking my hand with hers. She left her heft hand where it was, stretched behind her, so the smoke didn't come near me. After letting go, she took another quick drag on her cigarette before stamping it out on the ground. "You got a car?"

I shook my head. I'd walked from campus; it had ended up only being a few blocks away, but impossible to find.

"All righty. Wanna ride in mine? I promise I'm not a psycho or anything."

"Sure," I said, following. She continued talking as we walked around the dark corner to the parking lot, which I found strangely comforting. Actually, considering my mother, that's not that strange.

"Sorry if my car's a mess. Well, there's no 'if' about it. It's a mess." She laughed. She had a nice laugh, and it seemed to bubble up easily. "I have a two-year-old," she explained. "It's actually a miracle that _I'm _not a mess. I came straight here from work, which is usually the only way to insure that I don't have chocolate on my shirt or a lollipop stuck to my ass."

I laughed involuntarily. I was feeling a little more comfortable. "What do you do?"

"Oh, honey, don't ask," she sighed. "I cook, I clean, I repair toys, and sometimes, when I'm lucky, I get to be an executive assistant in Hartford!" She added extra enthusiasm to her job title and location, bouncing around like a cheerleader. "My husband works afternoons and nights," she explained, stopping at the only car in the empty parking lot.

"What does _he _do?" I asked, reaching for the passenger door handle.

"Hold on," she said. "Lemme find my keys." She dug through her purse for a few minutes. "A-ha! Victory," she smiled, holding up her keys triumphantly. She pressed a button and unlocked the car. "Hold on, let me clear the stuff out of the front seat for you."

I stood next to the car, watching as Iliana slid into the driver's seat. She continued talking as she pulled all of the papers and toys and empty food bags from the front seat and dumped them unceremoniously in the backseat. "Zahn—my husband—is in a band. They have an actual record deal, which means we get money when the four of them go into the recording studio and sit on their asses for twelve hours, before squeezing out one take of one song and heading back home." She leaned back and admired the now empty seat. "There," she said triumphantly. "Go 'head, get in."

I did as she said, sliding into the seat. I unwrapped myself from my now ever-present messenger bag and dropped it on the floor at my feet. "Thanks for this, by the way," I said, closing the door and looking at Iliana.

"Oh, don't mention it," she said, shaking her head. "Besides you're paying for yourself. It's not a date."

I chuckled. "I know."

"Good." She grinned, and started the car. Some weird pop/electronica fusion music started.

"What is this?" I asked, gesturing to the radio.

"Dandy Warhols, 'We Used to be Friends'," she said easily. "We can change it if you want to. I've got almost everything. I have the weirdest taste in music. I mean it, I like practically _everything_. And on the other hand, I can be a music snob."

"Oh, my best friend Lane's one of those! She also listens to everything and knows everything about them."

"Oh, I don't know anything about them. Sometimes I do. I mean, I'm a total matchbox twenty freak, and own all of their CDs and can sing along to every one of their songs. They're just awesome, though. Some people don't like them, and I can't see that at all. Rob Thomas, first of all, is a god. Second of all, they're just all so creatively talented that all of their songs can be seen as completely different from each other, but you can still tell they're matchbox twenty songs." She paused for a breath, and grinned. "Sorry. I've always been around music freaks my entire life. If I ever have a girl, I'm totally naming her after the patron saint of music. Sometimes I'll adore a song just because of the way the instruments sound. Bass and drums, in particular, just kill me. I always knew I'd marry a bassist," she added as an afterthought, shaking her head. "And my son's decided he wants to be a drummer, just like Daddy's best friend."

"My best friend's a drummer!"

Iliana laughed. "I don't know why that's funny to me. Just is. I also might have had some caffeine. Oh! We're here," she said, sliding quickly into a parking spot on the street, almost as an afterthought. "Come on in," she said to me, turning as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "You'll like it. They have _lots _of pie." She grinned, and left the car. I smiled and followed her.

-----

"Okay, wait. What's her name?" Mom asked.

"Iliana," Lane, sitting on my bed next to Mom, answered. "But what's the band's name?"

"I told you, I didn't ask." I turned from my closet and held yet another maternity top up against my stomach. "Whaddya think?"

"Too casual," Mom dismissed. "And Illahn—"

"Iliana," I corrected, throwing the top onto an ever-growing pile of unwearable clothes.

"Right, that's what I said. Iliana's husband is…."

"Zano, and their kid is Miles, and the drummer's name is…."

"I don't know!" I said, pulling the last three shirts out of my closet. "Anything?"

"Hmm…do you have a dress?" Mom asked. I nodded and buried myself back into my closet. Eventually I emerged with a mid-calf light blue stretch dress.

"Perfect," Lane breathed.

"Yeah, now all I have to do is fit in it." I let out a slight huff of indignation, and then headed for the bathroom.

I was getting dressed up for my baby shower. My town-wide baby shower, where the whole town was going to give me countless eccentric presents while I sat perched on a makeshift throne, a lavender party hat plopped on my head, and Kirk screaming into a bullhorn in the background.

I know these things; I have mother's intuition.

Halfway through putting on my dress, I plopped unceremoniously onto the toilet. Had I seriously just thought that? Had I just called myself…a _mother?_

"Mom!" I screamed, pulling the dress as quickly as I could the rest of the way on. I flung the door open so I was face-to-face with a very shocked Mom and Lane, both looking scared out of their wits.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm gonna be a mom!"

Mom stared at me for a second, and then smiled. "Oh. Oh, sweetie." She wrapped her arms around me. "You just had the shock of realization. It won't be long now." She let go. "Next thing you know, you'll be popping that sucker out and sending him or her off to fancy school, so they can realize half a month into the third trimester that being pregnant means becoming a parent." Mom laughed. "This is such a big moment!"

"I know, I _get _that, but…how am I supposed to do this? I'm only…." I trailed off.

"You're nineteen, sweetie. You've been nineteen for three days."

"Oh my God! I forgot!"

"You did not," Mom scolded me.

"Yes I did! I forgot it was my birthday!" I hit Mom on the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ow! I did tell you! I wished you a happy birthday the day of!"

"You did?" I asked, calming down. Mom nodded. I turned to Lane.

"We had cake," she said.

"I…I…I can't believe this. I can't do this! I can't believe I forgot that I remembered my birthday! How am I going to remember to, I don't know, feed the baby?"

"You'll remember to feed the baby. If only by the screaming," Mom said semi-compassionately, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"And if you don't hear the screaming, _I_'_ll _help," Lane said proudly, smiling at me. I smiled back.

"Thanks," I said softly, reaching my arms out. She stepped into them and we hugged for just a second, before Mom tapped us on the shoulder and said, "Come on, you two. Our chariot awaits." She gestured, and I saw Dad standing in the hallway, dangling his car keys and waving his watch around. I grinned, wrapped one arm around Lane's, and the other around Mom's.

"Let's go," I said excitedly. "I can't wait to see what this town thinks up next."


	8. Here It Comes

Title: Too Close For Comfort

Chapter Eight: Here It Comes...

A/N: Dude. Thanks for the multiple reviews. Reviews are muy awesome. This fun chapter covers a lot of time. There are multiple dreams. The paragraph without punctuation is all thoughts. Goodness, gracious, not a lot more left! Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, and the next chapter should be up MUCH quicker than this one.

Also, thanks _soo_ much to Tina, who beta'd this chapter for me and gave me fabulous feedback and made this chapter that much better.

---------------------

"Mommy! Mommy! Watch me, Mommy! Watch me!"

I opened my eyes behind my sunglasses. My six-year-old son was jumping up and down on our pool deck, his wet dark hair plastered to his forehead and a gigantic grin on his face.

"Mommy, are you watching? Are you watching, Mommy?"

"I'm watching, baby," I called.

He reached for his goggles and slid them back over his eyes, readying himself for his stunt. He edged slowly to the pool, curled his toes over the side of the deck, and held his hands together in a point toward the water. He breathed in deep, readying himself, and then suddenly dropped out of his pose.

"Meredith! Get out of the way!"

"No." My four-year-old daughter stuck her tongue out, twirling in her plastic ring in the water.

"Mom! Meredith's in my way!"

"Nuh-uh, am not!"

"Meredith, move to the other side of the pool. Lee, don't yell."

"Fine," Meredith pouted her way to the other side of the shallow end, turning back to watch her big brother jump.

"Are you watching, Momma?" Lee asked again.

"I'm watching."

He repeated his pose, took another deep breath, and plunged. The "dive" was more of a belly flop, but as a mother, everything your child makes is beautiful.

"Whoo!" I clapped and cheered. "Great job!"

"Watch me too, Mommy, watch me!" Meredith, not to be outdone, started twirling in her plastic ring again, raising her arms above her head like a ballerina.

"Very nice, sweetie!" I called, before checking once more they were okay and closing my eyes. My youngest one, two-year-old Ryan, had been up all night sick, and so I was dead tired.

"Rory. Rory. Rory."

I opened my eyes with reluctance. The face was backlit by the sun, but I could tell it was a guy with dark hair and a nice smile. I smiled back.

"You fell asleep," he said, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Where are the kids?" I asked, putting my hands on the sides of the lounge chair to try to sit up. He put a hand on my arm to stop me and said, "I took them inside and stuck them in the tub. They're drying off in front of the TV."

"Ryan?"

"Sleeping. She's almost as tired as you are." He smiled again, and I smiled back. "Come on inside, Ror." He leaned down and kissed me sweetly.

I suddenly woke up before the kiss was over. I sighed, and sat up. What a weird dream. Three kids all two years apart, a pool deck, an apparently cute husband figure, and a feeling I was pregnant. I smoothed my nightshirt over my seven-and-a-half months along stomach and glanced around the dark common room.

"Great," I muttered. Halfway through my homework, my pregnancy-caused fatigue had conked me out on the couch, and now it was almost four in the morning. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" I groaned, sitting up and putting a hand on the small of my back. Suddenly, the day after my baby shower in Stars Hollow, every single horrible third trimester symptom had hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt literal, too. I was so tired all the time it was all I could do to keep my eyes open during my two classes, and during the young mother meetings, which I attended faithfully on Mondays and Wednesdays, though I mainly slept on the couch in the back of the room. Iliana sat next to me, and every once in a while she'd poke me to wake me up, but mainly she let me sleep. Besides the fatigue, my back was killing me, my breasts were tender, none of my maternity clothes seemed to want to fit, and whenever I complained I sounded like a pregnancy textbook.

I sighed and picked up my homework from where it had dropped on the floor. The paper was bent, but it was readable, and I only had three more questions. I angled myself as unawkwardly as possible and finished my homework.

---

"What are you doing today?" Paris asked, rushing up to me at breakfast.

"Well, I've got class at eleven, a doctor's appointment at four and the young mothers meeting at seven, but other than that I'm free. Why?"

"I've got to talk to you."

"Okay, why don't you–"I gestured to the seat facing me, but Paris shook her head and rushed off as quickly as she had rushed up. I watched her go, noticing that she didn't take the time to chew out the guy that stopped in front of her and stood there for almost thirty whole seconds. That was worrisome.

---

After my class but before my doctor's appointment, I was watching _Footloose_, the latest movie in Mom's necessity movie collection that she claimed had something to do with pregnancy–but in reality were just her favorite movies–when my cell phone rang, singing its little scale over and over again all the way in my room. Because Paris and Tanna were in class and Janet was currently running around the campus, I was forced to get up myself and waddle from the living room to my room and find my purse and then my phone. By the time I found it and answered, I was slightly out of breath.

"Hello?"

"Rory!"

"Lane?" I asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "Listen, is today a busy day for you?"

"Kind of. I've got a doctor's appointment at four, and at some point Paris 'needs to talk to me', and then I've got my meeting at seven."

"What time is your meeting over?"

"Depends. Tonight's supposed to be quick, so seven-fifteen or seven-thirty or so."

"Can you get over here as soon as it's over?"

"Why? What's wrong?" It's never good when your best friend asks you to come over as soon as possible.

"Your mom's not doing too well. I mean, she's not sick or anything. She's just...I think she and your dad are having trouble. She's currently crying into her fourth pot of coffee."

"Oh, God. Should I call her?"

"Oh, no, she'd just deny it. But she couldn't deny it to your face."

"Okay. I'll come over right after the meeting."

"Okay, good. Oh, and the other thing?" she added, very non-chalantly.

"There's another thing?" I sighed.

"Yeah. Um, Dave's back."

"Lane!" I exclaimed.

"Gotta go," she hedged. "See you later." She hung up quickly.

"What is going _on_ today?" I asked the air as I dropped my phone back into my purse.

-----

"Mail call!" Iliana called, walking into the suite living room half after three. I quickly got off of my bed and waddled into the living room, just in time to watch her yell, "Gilmore!" and throw an envelope onto the floor.

"Iliana," I complained. "I'm forced to waddle." I gestured to my ever-growing stomach. She grimaced and ceded: "Fine. I'll bend down and pick it up for you." She grinned as she handed it to me.

I hadn't even glanced at the address when she said in a curious voice, "Who's Jess?"

I almost choked and finally stared at the envelope. Yep. Sure enough, the return address was for Jess Mariano. I darted a glance at Iliana and ripped open the envelope. I dropped it on the floor and stared at the letter.

_Dear Rory, _

_Hey. How are you? Just writing to tell you that I visited my mom, only to find that __my mom has foregone alcohol for the Ren Faire circuit, so I'm currently alone here in New __York. _

_I guess what I'm putting off is visiting Luke. I'm gonna do it soon, though. Mainly I'm __writing to tell you of my impending trip to Luke because of something he said the last time I __passed through. You know, when I wrote and left you those other letters? He said something __about, "If she hasn't told you yet, she doesn't want you to know." _

_Rory, what haven't you told me? Apparently you don't want me to know, but I _do _want to know, and I'm telling you that when I pass through there again, I will find you and __learn what it is you don't want me to know. _

_Don't keep secrets from me, Rory. When you do that, you become me._

_Jess_

"Uh!" I exclaimed, throwing the letter down. "Sanctimonious bastard."

"The father, huh?" Iliana asked, leaning to pick the letter up from the floor. "Oh, sweetie, that's not too bad."

I glared at her, rubbing my hands protectively over my stomach.

"What haven't you told him?" She looked up at me, and within half a second she got it. "Oh, Rory," she whispered, lowering the letter.

"Keep reading," I commanded her, pointing. "Get to the point about becoming him."

"Rory, sweetie, you didn't tell him you were pregnant?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Oh, Rory, bad idea." Iliana shook her head.

I felt a sudden stab of anger in my chest and grabbed the letter from her. "Have you ever gone through this? No. You don't know what it feels like."

"Oh, sweetie," Iliana sighed and sat down. "You're right. I wasn't eighteen when I got

pregnant, and I didn't wait seven months to tell Zahn. But we weren't married, and our parents were really old-fashioned, and it did take me a while to work up my nerve–and then after I told him, we had a huge fight. But the thing is, Rory," Iliana reached a hand to touch my shoulder, "we were so much better off after it. Zano was so great after it. He went shopping with me for baby things, and he took me to Lamaze classes, and he was there in the delivery room and was so great he even made my mom like him again." She smiled. "It's just a better idea, sweetie."

To that, I said the only thing I could: "My mom always said that Lamaze hooey was a bunch of crap."

She laughed and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Come on, let's go see Doc Robinson. Get another picture of that sucker." She patted my stomach with her extra arm and led me out of the room.

-----

Iliana and I dropped by my dorm so I could change, and the second we walked in the door Paris practically mauled me.

"Rory! Where have you been? We need to talk!"

"Oh, Paris! Where have you been? I've very easy to catch up to."

Iliana laughed, and Paris stared at her. Iliana noticed and reached out a hand. "Hi, I'm Iliana Leeopolis."

"Paris Gellar," Paris said, taking Iliana's hand and nodding. "But I'm talking to Rory right now."

"Paris," I scolded.

"Rory, come on. Let's go in our room, we'll talk, and you can change, okay?"

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll be right back," I told Iliana, and she nodded, picked up _What To Expect When You're Expecting_, and plopped on the couch. I followed Paris into our room and then said, "What to you need to talk about?"

"Listen, Rory, I understand that you're pregnant and you're going to stop living in the dorms when you have the kid. And I think that's a wise decision."

"Well, thank you," I said.

"But, I don't think it's wise for you to spend all of your extra time with your mother and your kid. First of all, you already pretty much have an unhealthy relationship with your mother. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Lorelai, but she spent your first night of college on your dorm room floor."

"That was just–"

"No, lemme finish," Paris protested, holding up a hand. "Gilmore, all I'm trying to say is: if you ever need anything, I'm here. I'll be here. You can use me to take solace from your mother, and I'll even"–she took a deep breath–"baby-sit sometimes. Whatever you need."

"Oh," I said quietly, touched beyond words. "Wow, Paris, thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling. There was a pause, and then she hugged me. I hugged her back.

-----

I begged out of the young mothers' meeting that night; gave Iliana a copy of my sonogram to show everyone, and headed the other way, to figure out what was happening in Stars Hollow. The first place I stopped was Luke's, hoping to find one of my best friends. The place was empty, and Luke was doing that thing he does with receipts when he has nothing else to do.

"Hey, Luke," I greeted, heaving myself onto a stool.

"Hey. Want some coffee? Decaf, I promise."

"No thanks," I said, "but I'll take a muffin. Um, and, do you know where either Lane or Mom are?"

"Lane's at the band kid's house, I think, and your mom's upstairs."

"Oh, God," I moaned. "How is she?"

Luke nodded as he handed me a muffin. "She's...pretty bad. I think she's afraid to go home."

I nodded. "Okay, keep the muffin for me. I'll be right back." I swung around and threw myself off of the stool, as ultra-graceful as I was. I waddled upstairs and knocked, tentatively. "Mom?"

"Rory?" she asked.

"Yeah. Can I come in?" I asked, reaching to try the door. It suddenly burst open and she threw her arms around me.

"Oh, thank God for Lane! Get in here. I have to tell you what an idiot I am." She let go of me and pulled me into Luke's apartment, pushing me to the couch and forcing me to sit down. When she turned to me, she had mascara streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes were red.

"Oh, Mom. Are you okay?"

"Uh, no. Listen, I have had one hell of a day. See, first of all, I had a visitor this morning." She shot me a strained smile. "Sherry."

I gasped. "Sherry Tinsdale?"

"No," she shook her head. "Sherry Tinsdale-Hayden."

"Oh, no!"

"I know," Mom nodded. "The bastard married her and didn't tell me."

"So why did Sherry come by? Just to tell you that?"

"Oh, no! She thought I knew! She came by to tell Chris that Gigi was asking for him, and then we got to talking, and I was such an idiot, Rory, you would not believe it."

"What?"

Mom paused, and then stood up. She paced in a small square for a minute, and then turned to me, wringing her hands. She took a deep breath, and then fell back onto the couch next to me.

"He cheated on her."

I swear, those words floated in the air for ten seconds before they finally hit me. I sat there, stupefied, for so long, that Mom jumped up and started pacing again. Finally, I gasped.

"He _cheated_ on her?" I practically screamed, trying to jump up myself. Using my arms for momentum, I finally propelled myself off the couch and landed next to Mom.

"I _know_!" Mom screeched.

"Oh, _God_! What'd you do?"

"I, of course, immediately jumped to the conclusion that he'd cheated on me, too, and I called his cell phone. Sherry helped with figuring out what the background noises were. He wasn't at work, 'cause there was Alanis Morrisette in the background. Alanis, Rory!"

"Oh, God," I repeated, quieter.

"I know," Mom repeated, nodding. "So Sherry and I–she's really nice, by the way–weeded out all of Chris's stuff, and put it in boxes so she could spread it around Boston, in front of his work. And _then_–oh, God. You remember how Sookie and I are catering for extra money, and our first client was Emily?"

"Urm...yes." Pregnancy makes you forget things, too. But...it did sound slightly familiar.

"_Any_way, so Mom called today and said there was no launch party for Dad's little business partner. So, I called Digger, and he wouldn't freakin' answer me, so I had to go to his office. _That _was fun, lemme tell ya. He somehow knew about Chris, and kept talking about summer camp, and then he did this weird thing where he remembered what I was wearing, and–"Mom paused for a breath. "He called me Umlauts, Rory. And, it's 'cause when I was ten, he stood up in the canoe and it tipped over and I got wet, and–Digger has been Chris's hero ever since. Digger was Chris's wingman when Chris got me, for chrissakes! Oh, Rory, it was such a horrible day. And then I got back to town, and Miss Patty stopped me and told me that Luke's getting a divorce, for some reason, and then I told Sookie we weren't working for my mother and she did her fake 'yay' thing and then started crying about insurance."

"Oh, Mom," I sighed, reaching to hug her. She hugged me back, and then let me go.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm gonna be fine, but I saw Dave here with Lane earlier, so you should go be with her. I've gotta go placate Sookie."

"Okay," I said. Mom smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and then we walked downstairs together.

Mom headed out, leaving me to ask Luke if he knew where the band lived, and therefore where Lane was. He directed me to an address on Orange Street, and I quickly made my way across three streets and knocked on the door.

Lane answered, screamed "Rory!", and threw her arms around me. "Save me," she whispered desperately, before letting go of me and pulling me to the small group of boys standing in the tiny kitchenette.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zach yelled, facing Brian. "The Ramones are not better than the Clash."

"Yeah, man," Dave agreed, nodding. "The Ramones only know three chords. Although, they did get a long way on those three chords," he added, turning to Zach.

Brian nodded, pointing at Dave. "He's got a point."

Zach started yelling again, and Lane leaned towards me and said, "It's been like this all day. Brian says something stupid, Zach yells at him, Dave refuses to take sides."

"Well, Dave's supposed to be the tiebreaker."

"Yeah, not the see-saw! He doesn't want them to kick him back out of the band."

"Why's he here?" I asked.

"He says he gets beat up in Orange County because he's a nerd."

"Aw," I said, trying not to laugh.

"But he's not a nerd! And why is he dropping out of college just because he gets beat up? I don't know. I think he's running from something."

"Maybe, he really really likes you and just doesn't want to say that's why he's back."

Lane smiled, and then shook her head. "I know, that's what I thought. But I'm worried to think it, in case he has like a huge drug problem or something he's running away from."

"Oh, Lane, he doesn't have a huge drug problem."

"I know," she said. "He told me he loves me."

"Oh, Lane!" I sighed. "That's so sweet."

"I told him if he ever leaves again I'm hooking up with Brian."

"Aw," I smiled.

"I know," Lane grinned back. "Hey, listen, I'm just gonna keep watching them argue for a while. If you wanna leave–get off your feet–that's fine."

"Oh, that'd be great. But, um, where are you staying?"

Lane grinned again. "Dave's letting me stay with him."

"Oh!" I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Patrick Cho flashback," I smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lane."

"Bye, Rory. Take care."

-----

Oh my God what time is it I can't handle being woken up this early in the morning if that beeper thing doesn't stop playing the entertainer soon I'm going to cry and kill things need sleep need lots of sleep need sleep for two people now and I'm not getting it what's going on here why is it not stopping oh God it's stopping now but is it really someone's shaking me and screaming baby baby baby over and over again and I think it's Mom but there's no baby yet, just me and my eight month pregnant stomach and I can't wait for thanksgiving in a week because I'm so hungry and I think we get four dinners again maybe five and I know I'm going to eat more than Mom this time maybe I'll even get tofurkey and be tofurkier but no, I don't think the baby would like that and is the baby kicking oh God can't even see bright neon green clock numbers eyes are so blurry but are they really I think someone's rolling me out of bed I think it's Mom I think that's her beeper oh God I think that's Sookie's baby beeper does this mean Sookie's going into labor oh God I'm going to cry if I have to see that this early in the morning it's still dark for crying out loud I–Oof!

----

She let me hold him. I was utterly amazed. She let me sit there, all alone in the room, and hold Davey while this person went to the bathroom, this person got food, this person got coffee....

Finally, I was holding a tiny, living, breathing, sleeping person, just exactly what the result of nine months of pregnancy and at least as much mental anxiety was.

I couldn't wait for my own bundle.

-----

"I only have one more week in this dorm," I proclaimed loudly one afternoon in early December. Janet rolled her eyes, Paris hissed, and Tanna nodded nicely and reached over the back of the couch and patted my arm. I grinned.

"I'm going to live at home after this. And I can, 'cause I live about fifteen minutes away."

"With a baby," Paris muttered.

"Yeah," I nodded, "but not for another month."

"I thought you were nine months pregnant," Janet finally spoke up.

"Pregnancy actually lasts ten months," Tanna explained. "The baby is born at the end of the ninth month."

I nodded. "What she said."

"Oh. Well, have fun." Janet returned to her book, but not before Paris shot her a nasty look.

"I will," I proclaimed. "I'm obviously in denial, because I totally can't wait for it. Going to school and having a baby will be quite an experience."

"Visit us," Tanna implored.

"Oh, I will," I nodded. "If only to drive your new roommate insane."

"Would you shut up, please?" Paris yelled. "Some of us are trying to study for six midterms! Not all of us are planning to take five years to graduate!"

"I'm not gonna take five years to graduate," I said indignantly, but I returned to quietly studying for my three courses anyway.

----

Christmas came and went without too much fuss and trouble, although Mom did unveil our new downstairs storage room, with just enough room for a changing table and crib, and then showed me the new rocking chair and bassinet she got for my room. She said Luke helped her, and he even admitted to it when we had lunch at the diner. We had Christmas dinner with Grandma and Grandpa, who gave me all sorts of baby stuff and Grandpa kept handing me checks under the table, "for the baby", he said. We left Hartford and drove back to Stars Hollow, where Sookie let me hold Baby Davey for a minute, and then we went back to the Crap Shack and collapsed.

Ten minutes before midnight, my water broke.


	9. 3 Weeks Early But In The Nick of Time

1**Title: **Too Close For Comfort

**Chapter Nine:** Three Weeks Early (But in the Nick of Time)

A/N: I want to hear nothing about how inaccurate my hospital speak is. All of my information comes from what I've picked up in various places, including televison, books, movies, and my mother. Just let any inaccuracies go.

Enjoy. Review.

_**-------------------------------------**_

_**Thursday, December 25, 2003**_

_**11: 50: 41 pm**_

The first thing I did after my water broke was roll over and groan. My first thought was that the indigestion I'd had all day was _really_ starting to act up, and the kid had jumped on my stupid bladder enough that I'd finally had an accident. At nine and a half months pregnant, I was practically waiting for it.

I threw back my tiny thin sheet I'd been sleeping with since my mother insisted on keeping the house actually warm and looked at the puddle. It looked...different. It was stickier than it should have been...and maybe that wasn't indigestion....

"Mom!" I screamed. I eased myself out of bed and headed for my dresser, pulling out sweatpants and pulling them on. "Mom!" I screamed again, leaving my room for the foyer.

Crap.

"MOM!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing the dogs who lived behind us to start barking and Mom to finally come pounding down the stairs, a robe half-heartedly shoved over one hand.

"Oh, God!" she yelled, taking one look at my face. "Grab the bag, grab the bag!" She ran past me, shedding her robe for her coat. She picked up our hospital-ready bag, and then stopped and turned to face me. "Just contractions?"

I shook my head. "My water broke."

"Oh, God," she repeated. "Shoes! We need shoes!"

"Check the stove!" I commanded as she ran past me, our bag still in her hand.

"All right, let's go," she said as she came running back, shoes already slipped on her feet. She shoved my shoes at me and then threw my coat on top of them. I followed as she ran out of the house, and then she commanded me to stay on the porch; she was going to pull the Jeep up to the steps. I calmly locked the door behind us, and then practically threw myself into the Jeep when it pulled up.

_**Friday, December 26, 2003**_

_**12: 12: 36 am **_

Mom practically shoved me into a seat in the hospital waiting room and threw the bag to me. I sat there calmly and watched as she frenetically ran to the nurses' desk and jumped from foot to foot as if she had to go the bathroom while talking to the nurse.

"Hi, yes, listen, my daughter here is pretty much already going into labor. I mean, she's had minor contractions all day, but then her water broke and now my baby is gonna have her baby right here in the waiting room if we don't get a doctor to see her right now." Mom slapped a hand on the desk, causing the nurse behind it to roll her eyes.

"Have you notified your doctor?"

"No, we haven't. See, it's not my doctor, it's my daughter's doctor, and I've been too busy driving and she's been too busy breathing and trying not to have a baby in my Jeep." Mom laughed, a high-pitched, very freaked out noise. "So listen, just page a freakin' doctor and put my daughter in a wheelchair before I channel Shirley MacLaine in _Terms Of Endearment_."

The nurse raised her eyebrows and shoved a clipboard at my mom, but she did ask, "What's your daughter's name, and what's her doctor's name?"

"Oh, thank you! My daughter's name is Rory Gilmore, and the doctor is Dr. Robinson. I will go fill these out." Mom lifted the forms to show the nurse, and then practically skipped back to me. "She's paging the doctor," Mom informed me, searching through her purse for a pen.

"I know," I said, my hands spread over my stomach, my breathing deep and regular.

"Won't be long now," Mom practically sing-songed, starting to fill out the forms.

_**12: 28: 57 am**_

"This is the life," I sighed, being wheeled down the hallway to the maternity ward. My contractions, which were very sparse but now kinda painful, had subsided for the moment, and I was just sitting in the wheelchair, rolling my way to a bed, where I'd get to lay down. Mom was right next to me, holding my hand; a candy striper was wheeling me along, alarmingly awake for so early in the morning; and Dr. Robinson was waiting for me in the ward.

Of course, I knew it wouldn't last long. Nothing good ever did. And, of course, the second we turned the last corner and saw Dr. Robinson, it felt like my stomach was splitting down the middle. I gasped and doubled over as much as was possible, my hand pressing into the place of the contraction. Mom kneeled down, her hand holding up very well to my squeezing. Dr. Robinson rushed over, kneeled next to me, and placed her hand over mine.

"Hi, Rory," she said, smiling at me. She had a twinkle in her eye, one that always made me feel better. "Whoa, that little one's really moving," she said, her hands starting to roam around my stomach. "We better get the two of you hooked up to some monitors." She stood, and then started walking, waving for us to come with her.

_**12: 38: 01 am **_

"Three centimeters," I said in a daze. "Only three centimeters."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie. Those last seven will go like _that_." Mom snapped her fingers, but I glared at her.

"I want the baby to come out _now_," I complained. "Why am I only dilated three centimeters?"

"Well, if I may venture a guess, I'd say your baby doesn't want to leave yet. But, hey–your water broke, your contractions are somewhat strong, so maybe it won't be too long." Dr. Robinson flipped my chart closed and dropped it back in the spot on the end of my bed. She smiled. "At least you went into labor at a good time. This is one of our best rooms. It's a good thing it's not too crowded tonight."

"Yeah, 'cause it's Christmas," I said. I glared at Mom. "This kid's gonna be just like you–ready for Christmas as soon as possible."

"Only if she's normal," Mom said.

"It's not normal into your mid-thirties."

"Hey!" Mom pointed a finger at me. "I am not officially in my mid-thirties 'til I hit thirty-five. And as you know, I won't hit thirty-five til April."

Dr. Robinson, who couldn't be more than thirty herself, smiled and said, "I think I'm going to leave you two alone. Rory, chin up. All we can do now is wait." She left.

Mom patted my head and kissed my forehead. "You heard what she said, kiddo. All we can do is wait. Anything I can do for you 'til it happens?"

I thought, and then nodded. "Get the kid out."

"Other than that."

"Can you go back to the house and get me a few books?"

"Uh...maybe. _Any_thing else?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

"Come on, hon, you can tell me. Anything at all."

"Jess. Can you call Jess? I...I want him to be here. And he's not." _Crap_, I thought, as things started getting blurred by my tears. "And I'm such an idiot."

"Oh, sweetie, you're not an idiot," Mom said, leaning in to hug me.

"Yes, I am! I haven't told him yet."

"Oh, Rory," Mom straightened up, "now might be a little late."

"No, Mom, no, it's not too late. Just...go talk to Luke. See if he can get in touch with him."

"Okay, babe." Mom kissed my forehead again. "Be right back."

_**1: 13: 48 am**_

As Mom told me later, she left the hospital in Hartford and drove back home to stock-pile some books and CDs for me. On her way back out of town, she was passing by Luke's when she saw a light on in his window. She thought about what I said, and pulled over and climbed out of her car. She, of course, 'cause "she'd never done it before", decided to throw a rock at Luke's window. The first shot landed two feet in front of her. The second shot landed about two feet closer to Luke's. And the third shot, because life is just like that, broke the bottom right pane in his window.

"What the hell?" he yelled, sticking his head out of the window.

"Hi," Mom said sheepishly, waving.

"What is it, Lorelai?"

"Rory," she said simply.

"I'll be right down," he said immediately, and after a second the window was shut and the light was gone. When he burst through the diner door, he locked it behind him, and she immediately said, "What, you're not going to invite me in?"

"Lorelai!" he exclaimed, seeming more than a little panicked. "Where is she? Where's Rory?"

"Oh, she's in the hospital already. Can I have some coffee? I'm practically dead."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Practically dead," she repeated. "It's quarter after one in the morning, and I swear I was up at five, and then I had to spend time with my parents, and then when I _finally_ thought I was going to sleep, Rory's water broke and I had to rush her to the hospital."

"Well...why are you here?"

"Books and CDs," she said, lifting up one of each and showing him. "Can...can I please come in? I'm seriously dead on my feet."

"Uh, sure, sure. But, are you sure Rory's okay?"

"Oh, yeah, she's great. Plus, I've got her beeper, so if anything super important happens, I'll know."

"All right. Come on in." He opened the diner for her, and, as Mom ended the story, "we had a nice conversation. Oh, and then I asked him about Jess. He hemmed and hawed, and then said he'd try, but last he heard, Jess was in New York somewhere, and Jess' mom was playing the Ren Faire circuit in, like, Michigan or something."

"Well, that's it," I said as Mom finished her story. "I refuse to have this baby without Jess. Hand me the coffee, tape my legs closed, and get me outta here."

"Uh, not so fast, sweets," Mom said, pushing me back down as I started to get out of bed. "There's not much you can do to stop this kid now."

"I can try, can't I?"

"You can," she nodded, "but I wouldn't. Do you really want to stay pregnant?"

I thought for a second, and then shook my head. "But...can you get Luke to keep trying?"

She nodded, slowly. "I'll get Luke to try his hardest."

_**3: 30: 33 am**_

"Hi, Rory," Dr. Robinson greeted, walking into my room with a clipboard in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. "How ya doin'?"

"Okay," I told her, setting down my book. "They seem to be subsiding."

"Hmm," she said, setting her things down.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling frantic.

"Well, it's just that the contractions shouldn't really be subsiding. They should be getting stronger or closer together. But, don't worry." She shot her trademark smile. "I'm sure it's fine. The little one probably just doesn't want to come out. I'm going to order some more tests, and we'll check and make sure everything's okay."

"Okay. Thanks, Dr. Robinson."

"You're welcome." She scribbled with something on my chart, and then picked up her things and started to leave.

"Wait!" I called. She turned around and smiled, waiting patiently. "Can you find my mom for me? She's probably either passed out on some uncomfortable chair or getting coffee."

"Okay. I'll try." She left, shutting the door softly behind her.

I glanced down at my stomach, imagining my baby angling his- or herself to get ready to leave. I frowned, and said, "You better stay in there till your daddy gets here. If you wait–ooh, he'll be mad."

I nodded, hoping that had done it, and then picked my book back up.

_**4: 23: 12 am**_

Mom awoke with a jerk as Dr. Robinson entered the room again. She was carrying my chart, and her expression was a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"Well, nothing's wrong." She smiled. "That's the good news. The bad news seems to be that your baby, no matter how much he or she was ready to be born earlier today, is now ready to stay there for a while." She checked her clipboard. "Like I said before, you're now three and a half centimeters dilated. The fetal monitor shows your contractions are slowing down, and now there's more time between them. All of your vitals are great, all of the baby's vitals are amazing. Everything's fine. It's just...going to go really slowly from here on out."

"And that means..." Mom prompted.

"That means, sleep. Get plenty of rest. You, Ms. Gilmore, can run home and go to work or anything you need to do. I would be very surprised if this baby were born in less than 24 hours."

"Thank you," I said, feeling just a little amazed.

"My pleasure," Dr. Robinson smiled. She nodded, and left.

Mom turned to me, a grim look on her face. "Sorry, babe. You've got some wait ahead of you."

I smiled. "Don't worry, Mom, I'll be fine. Besides, this'll give Luke more time to find Jess."

Mom's eyebrows shot up, but she recovered quickly, and forced a smile and patted my hand.

"Is Luke still here?" I asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Um, yeah," Mom said. "He's passed out in the hallway, I think. I should probably go wake him up. He said something about the bread delivery."

"Okay," I said, nodding. "But remind him about Jess, okay?"

"Of course."

"Hey, you should go, too," I said, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "Go home, get some real sleep."

"Oh, honey, I don't want to leave you here all alone."

"It's fine," I said. "I've got books, and I can sleep, too."

"Okay," Mom agreed, albeit hesitatingly. Then she smiled and kissed my forehead. "See you later, sweets."

"Bye, Mom."

She grabbed her things and left the room, blowing a kiss before shutting the door. I settled down in the bed and tried to sleep.

_**8: 59: 45 am**_

I woke up four hours later, still tired but slightly more refreshed. I stared at the clock above my door for fifteen seconds, and as soon as it was nine, I grabbed the phone from the bedside table and started dialing.

First was my dad. However much I hated him, he was still my dad, and he was going to be a grandfather. Plus, I called him first in hopes that I'd be waking him up.

"Hello?" he asked groggily, answering a split second before the answering machine, but still triggering the machine. "You've reached Christopher..." it proclaimed loudly, causing Dad to mutter mild profanity. "Hold on," he proclaimed, annoyed. I waited patiently until the beep, and then I said, "Dad."

"Rory?" he asked, slightly amazed. "I thought you–"

"Listen, Dad, you're not one of my favorite people right now, but I just thought you should know–I'm having the baby."

Dad stuttered, and then finally forced out, "Now?"

"Yeah," I said. "Come, don't come, I don't care. I'll call you when the baby's born. Bye."

I hung up on him quickly. I still couldn't quite believe that he'd done what he'd done...but he was still my dad. I didn't really want to talk to him, but I felt bad for hanging up.

_Oh, well, _I thought. _I've got too much to worry about to worry about that right now. _

I kept calling people.

_**12: 48: 23 pm**_

"Wow," Dr. Robinson said, coming into my room. "That's quite a crowd you've got there, Rory."

"Just wait till the presents come," Lane said. She was standing next to me, holding my hand. She'd been standing next to me since right after I'd called her at nine. Since I'd told my mom to stay in town, Lane was my right-hand. She also helped me with all of my visitors–I'd already seen Grandma and Grandpa, Paris and Jamie, Lane's band, Babette and Morey, Miss Patty, Taylor, and Luke.

"Well, Rory, how are those contractions now?"

"Much stronger and closer together," I said, grimacing as another one started. Dr. Robinson checked the fetal monitor and hmm-ed.

"What?" Lane asked, being frantic for me during my contraction.

"Let me check how much you're dilated," Dr. Robinson said by way of response. After a minute, she looked up and nodded. "You are quite the amazing patient, Rory."

"Why?" Lane asked.

"I say you're almost there." Dr. Robinson grinned, and then checked the fetal monitor again. "Actually...call your mom. You're heading into delivery."

"Lane," I gasped, looking at her. She nodded. "I'll get right on that." She dropped my hand and reached for the phone.

Dr. Robinson looked at me. "Can anyone out there go with you into the labor and delivery room?"

I thought about it, and then pointed to Lane. "Basically her, or Mom."

Dr. Robinson nodded. "Okay. When she gets off the phone, we'll get her suited up. When your mom shows up, we'll get her to take your friend's place."

"Okay," I nodded.

"All right. Let's go!" She lifted the sides of my bed and started wheeling me out of the room. Lane caught up with us, and started walking with us to the elevator. Dr. Robinson got some orderlies to help wheel my bed, and then suddenly I saw a vision.

The elevator doors slid open, and Luke was standing there, looking a little worried. Standing slightly behind him, looking pale and scared out of his mind, was Jess.

I thought I was dreaming until I heard Lane say his name.

And that's when I knew it was true.


	10. For The Shock Of It All

**Title: **Too Close For Comfort

**Chapter 10: **For The Shock Of It All

**A/N: **Look! Two chapters, one night. This chapter used to be worse. It got better, and I like it more. I don't think this story's got too much left. long, deep, sigh Oh, guys. I really hope you like this. It's almost time to wrap this thing up.

**POV: **Jess

-

Luke showed up at my apartment at half past five, pale and frantic but with a slight smile that showed up every few seconds. I glared at Luke, left the door open, and walked back into the apartment.

"What do _you_ want" I asked as I pulled a bottle from the firdge.

"Rory's pregnant."

He said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, that the bottle slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. "Shit" I exclaimed, grabbing a towel and kneeling to wipe up the fizzing beer.

"Jess. Did you hear me? Rory's pregnant."

"Yes" I looked up at Luke, still standing in the doorway. "Why the hell do you think I dropped the bottle"

"You shouldn't be drinkin' in the afternoon anyways." Luke walked in, pulled the door closed behind him. "So, whaddya think"

"I think beer stains" I muttered, still cleaning up the spill.

"Jess, shut up about the goddamn beer! Your ex-girlfriend's pregnant! Now, what the hell is going through your mind"

I stood up quicklky and turned to face Luke. "I think that sure is vindictive of the two of you to come tell me the fucking day after Christmas that Rory's moved on so quickly! The fucking holidays are _fucking_" I kicked the milk crate that served as my coffee table "bad enough already"

"Hey" Luke yelled, crossing the apartment in two steps and grabbing my arm. "Don't be such a stupid ass! It's _your_ kid" Almost immediately, he seemed to realize that the news was better delivered in a nicer fashion. He dropped my arm, backed up half a step and cleared his throat. "It's your kid." He repeated, softer.

"Huh." I sank onto the milk crate I'd kicked over, and kinda stared at the floor.

"Jess" Luke asked, reaching his hand to my shoulder. I knocked it away and looked up at him.

"Why are you telling me this? Why isn't Rory doing it"

"Uh...mainly because she told me to tell you. Because she's actually not pregnant anymore."

"What" I stood up quickly. "What happened"

"Uh, she had it." He checked his watch. "About five hours ago, actually."

"Well" I asked, kinda apprehensively.

"Well what"

"What, uh...what was it"

"Oh? Oh, I don't know. Lorelai didn't say. I, um, showed up at the hospital when they were wheeling Rory up to delivery, and she and Lane forced me out of the hospital to come find you. So I went back to the apartment, tracked down your mom, and then we worked trying to track down you. The operators for this city have damn fine attitudes, by the way. It's amazing you turned out how well you did."

"Yeah, I know." I rubbed my hands through my hair. "I'm gonna go pack. And then, uh, we can leave."

"Okay." Luke nodded. He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

I nodded, and then left to go pack.

-

On the ride to Stars Hollow, I started to worry. It had been apparently nine months since I'd seen Rory...and since then, she'd gone through pregnancy and had a child-and had apparently decided to not tell me. Why wouldn't she tell me? Why would she decide to tell me _now_, when there's nothing I can do? I mean, I guess what I was doing then-traveling to Stars Hollow-might qualify as doing something. I just felt horrible. I felt like I should have been doing something that whole time. You know, worrying about the fact I was going to become a father, if nothing else. God. _Father_. Father. What the hell? I was someone's dad suddenly. In a period of ten minutes I had gone from someone whose uncle was annoying him, to someone whose ex-girlfriend was pregnant with someone else's kid, to someone's _dad_. Seriously. How the _hell_?

-

Luke stopped outside the diner and told me to stay. He walked in, waved his arms around, and ran upstairs. When he came downstairs, Lorelai was trailing him, and people were lining up at the register, waiting to pay. While he rang people up, Lorelai spotted me sitting in the truck, and decided she'd come out and talk to me.

"Hey, Jess" she said, opening the driver's side door and sitting down.

"Hey, Lorelai" I said, nodding.

"So...you heard the news"

"Yeah, I...heard the news. Does, uh, Rory know I'm coming"

Lorelai snorted. "Are you kidding? She's been sleeping for four hours. I made her wake up yesterday at, like, five, 'cause it was Christmas, you know"

I nodded. I seemed to remember that Lorelai had an affinity for all things presents.

"Yeah, so then we had to wander around for hours, and we even saw my parents, and then we were going to bed at almost midnight, and that's when it happened." Lorelai smiled at me, and I tried to smile back. Lorelai looked up and made sure Luke was still busy, and then cleared her throat and leaned in towards me.

"Okay, listen. Earlier this year, I very, very much wanted to kill you. You ruined my baby girl, and then you left, and you didn't even know. But, I've gotten better. Rory's gotten better, she's accepted it, but now, her pregnancy's over, and she's got a baby. Her very own baby, and I just know she's going to break down sometime in the next two weeks because it's all too much." She took a deep breath. "But see, here's the thing. If you can stay, and help her out, and try to be a father-it'll be hard, it might feel impossible, but you can do it-then I won't kill you. Okay"

I nodded, slowly. "Okay."

Luke opened the driver side door, and Lorelai smiled at me and said"Scoot over." I obliged.

-

Lorelai and Luke both went into Rory's room before I did. After I'd been sitting in the waiting room for half an hour, Lorelai finally came back out, nodded and smiled at me, and then took my place next to Luke.

"Hey" I said softly as I walked into the room.

"Hey." She smiled and sat up more. "How are you"

"I should be asking that to you. You're the one that just had a...uh, a baby."

"Oh, is that what that was" She smiled and leaned back and looked at me.

"What" I asked with a slightly nervous chuckle after a minute.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say thanks."

"For what"

"For being here."

"I should have been here sooner" I said, shaking my head. "Rory, why didn't you tell me" I walked closer to her.

"I was worried. About what you'd say. So, I did what my mother taught me to do best, and I procrastinated."

"But now I've missed out on everything. And you had to go through all this by yourself. And I just–I feel like my dad, Rory. And I don't want to feel like him."

"Wow" she said, smiling at me again.

"What" I asked, feeling a little apprehensive.

"You're so grown-up."

"No, I'm not grown-up. I'm far from it."

"Oh, don't worry." Rory patted my hand. "You'll be grown up before long."

There was a knock on the door, and a nurse stuck her head in. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but someone wants to say hello."

"Hey" Rory grinned. "Come on in"

The nurse grinned back and wheeled in a small plastic bassinet, filled with a small white and pink bundle. The nurse lifted the baby out, slowly, and laid it into Rory's arms. "Here's Mommy" she said softly.

"Thanks, Ashley" Rory called as the nurse left the room. "Hey. Come here. Come meet her." Rory beckoned me over with her head. I leaned in, over her shoulder, and watched the tiny thing in Rory's arms yawn.

"Jess Mariano" Rory said"meet Jessica Lorelai Gilmore. Your daughter."

Oh, yeah. I grew up _fast._


	11. Together

1**Title: **Too Close For Comfort

**Chapter 11: **Together

**POV: **Rory

**A/N**: Congratulations, those reviewers who discovered the secret switcheroo! See, I'd written Jess there, when Rory was delivering, and it was just a crap chapter. So, I rewrote it. The person who was Jess was really Iliana's husband, but you'll see why Rory and Lane were both confused if you read this chapter. Part of the chapter is stolen from "Nick Nora/Sid Nancy". You'll see. The next chapter will be much longer, I promise, but this one is through for now. There's not much more I can write without going into what the next chapter is about.

**Chapters Left**: Well, we got this one, and then I'm thinking one more, and then a fun fun epilogue! Because we want the last chapter to be the thirteenth one.

-

He looked so different. His hair was slightly longer, his chin was slightly stubbled, and his leather jacket had never looked better. But it was him. It was totally him. And I was very excited that he was leaning on my shoulder, watching as Jessica yawned and dragged a hand across her forehead.

"What's that?" he asked quietly, pointing to the baby mittens on both of her hands.

"Oh, those are little mittens, so she doesn't scratch her eyes out."

"She can do that?" he asked, surprised.

"Oh, she can do almost anything. As a matter of fact, right now, she's out." I smiled up at Jess. "Do you wanna put her back in the bassinet?"

What looked like sheer terror came over his face. My heart dropped, and I realized that I wanted him to be the perfect dad already. But he wasn't, and if I wanted him to stay, I just had to force a smile and say, "Never mind. Can you pull the bassinet over here?"

He visibly relaxed and pulled the plastic basket near us. I settled Jessica into the pile of white blankets and looked up at Jess. I scooted over and patted the bed. "Sit down," I commanded. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it in the chair near the door before settling nervously on the edge of the bed.

"Your hair's different," I told him. He raised a nervous hand to his longer hair and nodded.

"Yours, too."

I raised my own hand to my hair. "Oh, yeah," I said, smiling. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Looks good like that," he almost mumbled, reminding me of before we'd dated, when he'd said that to me.

"Yours, too. Actually, I mentioned it because earlier today, my friend's husband showed up here, and it was the first time I'd ever seen him, and I swear, Lane and I both thought he was you."

Jess seemed to struggle for words, and then finally came up with, "You have a friend who's married?"

I nodded. "Actually, a couple. Um, Iliana and I met at this young mother's meeting thing. She's really helped me through, um, the last couple of months." I thought about telling him about Dean. But bringing up the thing that was such a huge obstacle for us didn't seem such a good idea with our new huge obstacle.

Jess cleared his throat and stood up. "Why'd you name her after me?"

Shocked by the sudden bluntness, I blinked. Then I realized–it's Jess. Jess _is_ bluntness. He doesn't tiptoe around anything. And there he was, asking me about one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make.

"Blunt. Good. I was waiting for that." I smiled, but Jess didn't waver. He kept staring at me, waiting for the answer. I nodded. "Right. Well, it was something that kinda killed me for a few weeks. You know, should I name her something from a book? The options were endless–Charlotte, Katherine, Jane, Ayn, Emily, Dorothy–but nothing seemed to fit."

"Ayn?" Jess repeated.

I smiled, and ignored him. "Then I thought about something from pop culture. Mom and I had a field day with that one, but still, nothing seemed to fit. And the options were so bad I refuse to repeat them. But then I thought about family. I thought about my mom, and her mom, and your mom, but I didn't think the baby seemed like a Lorelai, or an Emily, or an Elizabeth. And so I changed all the boys into girls. Richard I kinda left alone, and then my dad's name changed to Christine or Christian, and your name changed to Jessica, and Luke's changed to Laura, for some reason–and then something clicked. And so, last week, I sat down at my desk and wrote down two names–one for a girl, and one for a boy. Jessica Lorelai Gilmore. Christopher Lee Gilmore. And then, when I saw her–dark hair, dark eyes–I knew she was a Jessica. I'm not sure if she's a Jessi or not yet. We'll see."

Jess walked over to the bassinet and leaned down. He trailed his hand softly across the dark fuzz on top of her head and then across her cheek. When he looked back at me I could hardly see through the tears gathered in my eyes.

"Rory?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," I said, reaching for a kleenex and wiping my eyes. "Hormones."

He nodded, and waited until I threw the tissue away and looked up at him, ready for action. He cleared his throat again. "I want to do this."

"Okay."

He walked back to the bed and placed a hand on my cheek. "We're going to do this. Together."

I nodded and started sniffling; I could feel the tears gathering. He leaned over and kissed me, deeply, like that night at Kyle's party. I slid over, and let him sit on the bed next to me. He stretched out, one arm around my back so that my head was cradled in his chest. His warmth was comforting and familiar, and I breathed in his scent and let myself slide off into sleep.

-

Mom took Jessica and me home two days later. Dr. Robinson was the only one to see us off–Mom had told the rest of the town to wait at home, because this was a mother-daughter-granddaughter thing, and dammit if Lorelai Gilmore wasn't going to be the mother in that equation.

Mom, of course, took the opportunity to quiz me on my newly-rekindled relationship with Jess. She was sitting in the front seat of my Prius while I watched Jessica sleep in her rear-facing car seat in the back.

"So, he's staying?" she asked, staring in the rearview mirror.

"Yes, Jess is staying," I said, watching as my three-day-old baby sighed.

"Where's he staying?"

"Stars Hollow, even though he hates it."

"You know what I mean," Mom said, sighing. "Look, I'm trying to be nice about this. Make it easy. It would be nice if you could help."

"All right, fine. We were hoping that for the first few weeks he could stay on our couch, maybe? My room would be better, but that bed is a joke." I said it very dryly, and then took pleasure in watching Mom's eyes bug out. "Relax," I said. "Not my room. Just the house, please?" I caught her eye in the mirror. She looked resigned.

"Fine. For a few weeks, anyway. Just to let the three of you bond."

"Exactly." I smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, babe." She smiled. "I just don't want to regret this later."

"Oh, believe me. You won't." Jessica stretched an arm in her sleep, and then forgot to drop it. It lay, half in the air and half on the car seat. I lifted it and re-nestled it next to her body, causing her to sigh again and reposition herself. She was so cute. This whole baby thing hadn't quite overwhelmed me yet, but there was plenty of time left. I just hoped that having Jess and my mom and, let's face it, Stars Hollow there to help me might make it all a little easier.

-

I was sitting at my desk, working on a paper for school. Sookie was in the kitchen, making way too much food. Jackson was helping her by playing with his produce. Mom was helping everyone by calming them down. Luke and Jess would be over soon, and we would all have a nice dinner.

It seemed startingly similar to another night, two years ago, when all the same people were here for an introductory dinner. Except now, Mom was cooing over almost two-month-old baby Davey in his bouncy baby seat settled on the kitchen table amongst all the food. There was a crib jammed between my desk and my bed, wedged beneath the window in my room, and filled with a very young newborn. And Jess wasn't unknown and untrustworthy. Jess was..._Jess_, like he'd become a year after his introduction. And _Jess_ was the father of that little newborn filling the crib.

"Rory, they're here," Mom called, walking past my open doorway with a plate of food.

"Coming," I said, trying to finish up the last sentence in my paper.

"Hey," I heard him say in my doorway. I turned around and smiled at him.

"Hey," I said. "I'm almost done."

"I figured," he said, shrugging and walking into my room. I grinned. He recognized the similarity as well, and was going to pretend it was two years earlier.

"Nice to meet you," I said, watching as he started examining my bookcase.

"Wow. Aren't we hooked on phonics?"

"Yeah, I like to read. Do you read?" I asked, anticipating what I knew now to be an un-truth.

"Not much," he answered, shaking his head and picking up Howl.

"Oh, that's great. I could loan you that if you want."

"No thanks," he said, dropping it on the edge of my dresser.

"Well, if you change your mind." He walked over towards me and stopped.

"Is that her?" he asked, pointing at the crib. I nodded, and he walked over and sat on my bed, the only way to comfortably look at the crib in my squashed room. After a minute of staring, he cleared his throat and said, "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" I asked.

"Bail," he responded, just as simply as he had that night.

"Bail? No." I walked over to him and sat on the bed next to him. "Though it may not seem like it at this moment, this is gonna be fun. Trust me."

"Don't you look trustworthy," he stated, looking at me.

"That's my line," I said softly.

"Rory, I have to tell you something."

"What?" I asked, suddenly realizing we were incredibly close to each other.

"I love you."

Ooh, brick wall. A big brick wall just slammed into me at full speed–although brick walls rarely speed–and knocked the feeling out of me.

"That's the last thing I was expecting you to say," I said, truthfully.

"It's true. I love you. I think I've loved you since that conversation. And," he sighed. "It's not so shocking, is it? I mean, you just had my kid. I obviously don't have passing feelings for you."

"I don't have passing feelings for you, either," I said softly. "I love you."

Jess smiled and kissed me quickly. "Can we take her with us to dinner?" he asked, looking at Jessica.

"Sure," I smiled. "We'll just put her in her car seat."

"Okay. Let's go eat. You want a soda?" he asked, leading me and Jessica from my room to the living room.

"Yes, please," I said, my arm already starting to feel as if it would break off from the weight of Jessica and her car seat. Jess got sodas for both himself and me, and then settled a hand on my back as we walked into the living room.

This just might work out, after all.


	12. The Hooligan, The Baby, and The Princess

**Title:** Too Close For Comfort  
**Chapter** **12:** The Hooligan, The Baby, and The Princess  
**A/N: **This is it, guys. It's over! I'm so excited. This chapter has been on three different computers, so far...and one floppy disk...and yet I still had to rewrite three times. But it's here, it's finished, and with it ends the story. I desperately love this story, and this chapter, and while it's currently un-betaed, I've been told that everyone's in character. So, here it is. There will be a sequel, but don't expect it anytime soon, because floppies screw up, did you know that?

* * *

I was sitting at the kitchen table early one morning a few days later, eating Lucky Charms and watching Jessica sleep. It seemed to have become my new pastime, watching her sleep. I took her on a walk and ended up on a bench, watching as she slept. I lost my own sleep sitting in bed, watching as she slept.

Mom kept trying to tell me that pretty soon she'd be screaming her head off all night, not sleeping, but she hadn't done it yet. For now, it seemed all Jessica did was sleep, which was fine with me.

"Hey," Mom said, walking into the kitchen.

"Hey," I said, quieter. "Shh, we've got two sleepers."

"Two? Oh, Jess." Mom poured the water into the coffee maker and scoffed. "Jess doesn't count, Rory."

"He does too," I protested. Jess had been sleeping on our couch since the night he'd come over for dinner, and Mom still hadn't warmed up to him. "Besides, he was up late last night. We both were."

"Just sitting on your bed watching Jessica sleep, huh?"

"Yep," I nodded, smiling. "It's very addictive."

Mom smiled too, and walked over and kissed me on the head. "I remember," she said, before heading back into the living room.

"Hey, where are you going?" I called.

"Nowhere. It's just a little wake-up service, stay where you are," Mom said, raising a hand to keep me seated.

I ignored her, made sure Jessica's car seat wouldn't move, and followed her to the edge of the living room.

Mom crept up behind Jess's head and whispered, in a sing-song voice, his name.

"Je-ess."

When he didn't respond, she got a little louder.

"Je-ess."

He mumbled, waved a hand in her direction and rolled over. I giggled, involuntarily. This looked like it was going to be fun. Mom looked back at me and grinned. "Watch this," she mouthed.

She leaned over his head, positioned her mouth directly over his ear, and yelled. "JESS!"

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, trying to sit up straight and failing miserably. He was so tangled in his sheets that he rolled off the couch, hitting the coffee table on the way down. His sheets stayed on the couch, revealing that he was sleeping in only his boxers. Mom squealed.

"Holy crap, naked Jess!" she yelled, slapping her hands over her eyes and shaking her head.

"I'm not naked," Jess said indignantly, pushing his legs out of the bottoms of his sheets.

"My eyes! My eyes!" Mom yelled, channeling Phoebe from Friends.

"Lorelai, I hit the damn coffee table," Jess complained, examining the rapidly deepening purple bruise around the top of his boxers.

"My eyes! My eyes!" Mom repeated.

"Shut up, Phoebe," I commanded, walking past Mom to where Jess lay on the floor. "Are you okay?" I started to ask, when I heard a wail start to come from the kitchen.

"Go get her," Jess sighed. "Probably woke up from all the screaming," he said pointedly, looking at Mom.

"Is it safe to look yet?" she asked around her hands as I ran into the kitchen.

I scooped Jessica up from her car seat and cradled her to me. She was quiet almost immediately. The baby books said it was because by now she had acclimated herself to my scent, and my warmth reminded her of being inside the womb. I didn't really care. I just loved the feeling of my baby resting in my arms.

Jess ran into the kitchen, followed by a speeding pillow. When I looked at him quizzingly, he explained, "She wants me to get dressed. _Now_."

"Is it safe to come into the kitchen yet?" Mom called.

"No," Jess and I called back.

Mom sighed. "I'm going to Luke's, then."

"See you later," I called.

"I'm not bringing back coffee, either!"

"Good!"

Mom sighed, her last bargaining tactic ruined. I heard her grab her coat and stand near the door for a second, before finally opening it and leaving.

I looked at Jess and smiled.

"Got rid of her," he said, grinning.

"Here," I said, handing Jessica to him. He took her slowly and cautiously, keeping her head nestled in the crook of his arm. I took a moment to watch as he held her. It was only about the fifth time he'd held her, and he already had a way with her. He kept her tucked close to his chest and had a firm, gentle grasp on her. It seemed he was already protecting her from the world.

He glanced up and noticed me watching them. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "You're just such a great dad."

"Is that why you handed me the baby?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I wanna make some coffee."

"Decaf," he commanded, watching as I filled the coffee pot with water.

"I know," I said defensively, pulling out the almost entirely full bag of decaf, along with a jar of Ovaltine. Jess snorted.

"You're still drinking that disgusting mixture?" he asked incredulously.

"Hey, it's even more disgusting with decaf, but this is the best way to dress up coffee without the key ingredient of caffeine."

"All right," he allowed, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. I smiled back, and something passed between us. I wasn't sure, but it felt like we were definitely slipping back into our old relationship.

Jessica, apparently desperate for attention, let out a little cry and wriggled in Jess's arms. I walked over to her quickly and tried to take her back from Jess.

"Wait," he protested quietly. Jessica moved her arms around a little more and then became still, her wide eyes staring at Jess's head, and mine above his shoulder. "See?" he said, looking up at me.

"Amazing," I said quietly, watching as Jessica watched her father. Her gaze was very intent, as if she were studying his face, trying to remember it. I suddenly remembered that Jess's dad had left when he was a baby, and mine was never up for father of the year. A little worried, I glanced at Jess, and realized all my fears were unfounded. He was staring back at Jessica with a gaze almost as intent, although his gaze was also amazed. He seemed so enraptured by her I didn't think he would be leaving anytime soon.

The phone rang, faintly. Reluctantly, I tore myself away from my spot on Jess's shoulder. "I'll go get that," I said.

"'Kay," he said, preoccupied.

I smiled as I headed upstairs, where I was pretty sure Mom had left the phone. One unexpected night seemed to have yielded a perfect little family for me. I was on a natural high as I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Rory, hello."

"Grandma," I said, my natural high plummeting just a tad. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, Rory. Your grandfather and I visited you in the hospital a few times, but every time you were asleep."

"Oh, sorry. Mom got me up really early Christmas day, and then I was in labor all night, so I was just trying to catch up."

"That's quite all right, Rory. I'm just calling to invite you to dinner. The three of you, actually. Your grandfather and I would love to spend some time with our family's newest addition."

"Oh, of course, Grandma," I said, "but I don't understand. The three of us?"

"Yes. You, your daughter, and Lorelai."

"Oh." For one irrational moment there, I had thought she was inviting Jess. "When would you like us to come?"

"Tonight is New Year's Eve, is it not?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, I expect you and your mother are going to protest if I invite you tonight, choosing instead to watch Dick Clark or some other silly show."

"That seems about right," I agreed.

"Then tomorrow night seems better suited, doesn't it?" Grandma asked matter-of-factly.

"Yes, it does," I agreed in the same tone of voice.

"It's settled. We'll see the three of you tomorrow."

"It's settled," I agreed.

"Goodbye, Rory."

"'Bye." I hung the phone up a little apprehensively. I felt a little bad. Jess had come back to Stars Hollow, a place he'd always hated, to spend time with Jessica. And me, I supposed. But now I was going to have to tell him that we were both going to Hartford, to spend time with a woman that had always hated him and a man that probably would, given the chance.

As I walked down the stairs and found Jess now sitting on the couch, talking softly to Jessica, I knew the conversation would have to wait. I stood on the landing and tried to be inconspicuous, listening in.

* * *

"So how long am I going to live on your couch?" Jess asked.

We were walking down Main Street towards Luke's, pushing Jessica's fancy car-seat-holder stroller in front of us. The visor on her car seat was up, and I'd bundled her up against the cold so well, that she just looked like a bundle of cloths in the dark.

I looked up at Jess, surprised by the bluntness and randomness of the question. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "How are we going to do this baby thing in six weeks, when I go back to school?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "But we need to figure this out."

"I know," I agreed. I spotted Taylor across the street, and he spotted us–unfortunately. "But could we do it later?"

Jess looked at me, and I just pointed. He followed my finger, and when he saw who it was, he groaned.

"Young lady, I am very disappointed in you!" Taylor exclaimed, walking up to us.

"Me? What'd I do, Taylor?" He, along with the rest of the town, had gotten over my pregnancy long ago.

"_Your _child," he started, "has the patience of your mother. And now, since _your _child just couldn't wait three more weeks, the entire Firelight Festival has to be pushed up to accommodate your _impatient_ family." He finished with a sigh, as if it were all too much.

"Taylor, stop calling her _my_ child," I said, imitating him. "Her name's Jessica."

"And that's another thing!" he started again. "You brought_ this_ hooligan back," he exclaimed, pointing at Jess, "and you even named _your child _after him!"

"Taylor!" a voice called from across the street. All three of us looked up and spotted Luke stalking over, an angry look on his face. "Get the hell away from them and mind your own business!"

"For your information, Luke, this _is _my business." And he was off. Again.

Jess and I watched as Luke and Taylor argued for a minute, and then I muttered, "Let's try to get out of here."

"Gladly," Jess muttered back.

As we tried to edge our way away from Taylor–with a baby stroller that didn't like edging–Taylor turned away from Luke and called after us. "Uh, excuse me, young lady!"

"Taylor, don't you dare," Luke threatened, his finger pointing in Taylor's face. I smiled at Luke as Jess and I made it to the steps outside the diner. I tried desperately to un-attach the car seat from the stroller, and finally Jess had to help hold the stroller down while I pulled.

"Thanks," I said, smiling.

"You go on in," he said, nodding towards the door. "I'll fold this up." He gestured to the stroller. I nodded, and carried Jessica into the diner.

Almost immediately, I was swallowed up in a crowd of ooh-ing and aw-ing. It took me a minute or two to fight my way out, but I finally made it to the table Mom was sitting at.

"Hey, babe," she greeted.

"Hey," I said, pulling over a chair from another table and settling Jessica's car seat into it. I plopped into my own seat and sighed.

"Tired?" Mom asked knowingly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm getting enough sleep, I'm just really tired a lot."

"Oh, Rory, honey," Babette, sitting at a table near us, started, "you need to go talk to a doctor. Fatigue after a baby could be a sign of trouble."

"Thanks, Babette," Mom said, smiling. "We'll keep that in mind."

"Okay, doll. You just remember to take good care of that little kid."

"We will," Mom said for me.

Babette, satisfied, turned back to her table.

"So, I saw you talking to Taylor out there. What did he have to say?"

"Oh, not much," I said, trying to steal Mom's coffee. "Just disappointed in the fact that my daughter's too impatient to be born on time, and also that I brought Jess the hooligan back. Just one sip," I pleaded.

"No caffeine," she declared, holding the cup as far away from me as she could.

I sighed and gave up. "You know, I don't really see Jess as a hooligan anymore."

"Did you ever?" Mom asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No, I guess not. But he had a job in New York, and he really wants to get to know Jessica."

"Speaking of the hooligan, where is he?" Mom asked. "Didn't he come with you?"

"Oh," I said, suddenly realizing he wasn't there. I looked behind me to the door, where Jess and Luke were struggling with the un-folded up stroller, trying to force it closed. I turned back to Mom. "Hey, can you watch the baby for me? I'll go help them."

"Oh, babe, you stay right there." Mom took a final sip of her coffee and slammed the mug on the table. "I will be right back." Mom smiled, smacked a kiss on my forehead, and left. I watched as she left, and then turned back to Jessica.

"Hey, sweetie." I smiled at her, and watched as she threw a hand in the air. "You're almost a week old. That's exciting, huh?" I chanced a glance behind me and reached across the table for Mom's cup. "Shh," I told Jessica, raising the cup to my lips. "Don't tell Grandma." I threw back my head, trying to get the last little bit of coffee.

"Rory?" someone asked, standing next to the table.

I immediately slammed the cup down and looked up. I had been expecting to find a stern older member of the town, chastising me for downing caffeine. Imagine my surprise when I found Lindsay Forrester standing next to me.

"Lindsay, hey," I said, smiling. I was so uncomfortable, but trying desperately to hide it. Lindsay, however, relaxed when she saw me smiling.

"Hi," she said, sliding into the chair next to me, across from Jessica. "How are you?" she asked, glancing quickly at the baby.

"I'm good," I said, nodding. "This is Jessica, by the way." I gestured to the car seat, where I could see Jessica had just nodded off.

"Oh, she's so cute!" Lindsay exclaimed. "You know, I really want a baby, but Dean said we need to wait until we get more settled. We're saving up for a townhouse," she finished, beaming proudly.

"Wow," I said, at a loss for words. My ex-boyfriend's wife was talking to me about babies and townhouses. Only in Stars Hollow.

"How are you doing this whole baby thing? I mean, aren't you still in college?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "But I have a guaranteed six weeks off. I've got a friend taking notes for me. And then when I start school..." I trailed off, and shrugged. "I'll be living at home, and Mom will help watch Jessica, along with Jess–"

"Jess?" Lindsay interrupted. "Is that your boyfriend?"

Whoa. A simple question, and yet so complex. I thought about it for a second. "He _used_ to be my boyfriend," I started, slowly. "Remember that party at Kyle's house? Lane's band played?"

"Oh,_ that_?" Lindsay asked, an almost disgusted look on her face. "God, that was so long ago. And really gross. Arielle Kebbel got completely drunk and threw up in the bushes when the cops came."

"Right. Well, Jess was my date to the party. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah! You mean him?" Lindsay asked, pointing towards the door. I turned to see Jess watching towards us, _sans_ stroller, my mom, or Luke.

"Hey," he said, greeting me with a quick kiss on the lips. He trailed a hand across Jessica's forehead as he passed her and then sat in the remaining chair at the table.

"Hey," I repeated, smiling. I was so happy to see him. Maybe he'd be mean to Lindsay and she'd leave and this awkward conversation would be over. "Jess, you remember Lindsay," I said, gesturing toward the other girl.

He nodded. "Dean's girlfriend, right?"

She shook her head and grinned. "Wife," she proclaimed, holding out her left hand.

"Huh," Jess said, raising his eyebrows at me and then taking Lindsay's hand to look at her ring. "Very nice," he proclaimed, letting go quickly.

"Thanks," Lindsay said, almost giggling. "Well, I'm gonna go now." She stood up in one graceful move, and suddenly towered over the table again. "It was really nice talking to you again, Rory," she told me, smiling. "Nice to see you again, Jess."

"You, too," Jess said, a smile plastered on his face.

"See you!" Lindsay finally left, with a final wave at the door.

"Dean got married?" Jess asked incredulously.

"Yes," I said simply. "What'd you do with Mom and Luke and the stroller?"

"Oh, they're out there arguing," he said. "I stood there for two minutes just watching them fight and do nothing, and then I realized that I could be in here with you two. So here I am." He smiled at me, a genuine smile. I blushed and smiled back. After a beat, he shifted his gaze from mine and looked at Jessica. "Wow. She sleeps a lot," he said simply, and I could tell he was just as awkward as I was with this whole situation.

"Yeah. I guess that's what babies do."

"Not according to your mom," he said, looking back at me. "She keeps saying that Jessica's gonna start screaming through the night soon."

"Yeah." I kept staring at Jessica. "I don't know. She seems pretty low-key to me."

"I can just see her being a wonderful infant and then being the devil's favorite toddler."

I laughed and looked at Jess. "That's a horrible thing to say!" I exclaimed.

"I know," he said, smirking.

"Then again, she is your daughter. She just might be a devil child after all."

He laughed, and opened his mouth to say something. However, Mom chose that second to practically fall into the diner, pulling the un-folded up stroller behind her. "This thing's going back," she complained to the people sitting nearest the door. "Last time I ever buy anything at K-Mart."

Luke followed her, looking grumpy. "I still don't understand why we can't just leave the damn thing outside."

"Because," Mom said, turning around to face him, "it could rain and get ruined, or someone could steal it, or Taylor could be staring at the new benches in the square and not look where he's going and fall over it and sue you and then you'd have to stare at him through that window all day every day while he glared at you even worse than usual from his brand new electric wheelchair that you helped pay for since he tripped over the stroller on your property."

"Do you ever breathe?" Luke asked. "And why aren't you helping to pay for this lawsuit? It's your stroller he tripped over."

"Um, hello? 'Cause you made me leave it outside. And not only that, I'm a single mother, with a single mother-daughter, and a new baby. Who needs a new stroller, thanks to Taylor."

"And–" Luke tried to start, and then sighed. "I give up. I can't be drawn into your little world any more this morning. More coffee?"

"Always." Mom flashed him her best smile.

"Coming right up," he said, heading behind the counter.

"Hey, babe," Mom said, pulling the stroller along behind her. "Get out of my seat," she said to Jess. Jess obliged, sitting in Lindsay's recently vacated seat, next to me. Mom nodded and pulled the stroller behind her until it was sitting practically on top of the table.

"So, what do you guys want to eat? I'll go get it," Jess offered.

"Oh, are you working here for Luke again?" Mom asked.

He shook his head. "No, but this makes it easier for him. And it's not like Luke's changed anything since I left, right?"

"When does he ever change anything?" Mom asked, and then said, "Pancakes."

Jess looked at me, and I ordered French toast. "And bacon for the whole table."

"Coming right up," Jess said. He stood up, kissed me quickly on the lips, and left.

Mom looked at me. "Well, well. You two seem to be mighty friendly."

I blushed, and changed the subject. "So, guess what you and I get to do tomorrow night."

"Um, recover from tomorrow morning's hangover?"

"No. We get to take Jessica to Grandma and Grandpa's for dinner!" I plastered on a huge fake smile. "Won't that be fun?"

Mom sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Grandma invited the three of us."

Mom pouted. "I don't see why she invited me. Rory, tomorrow's Saturday!" Mom suddenly realized.

"I know," I said. I reached across the table and touched Mom's arm. "I'm so sorry," I said mock-sincerely.

"Coffee," Jess said, walking over with two pots and one cup. He set the cup in front of me and poured in some detestable decaf, and he re-filled Mom's caffeinated bliss. I looked at Mom and noticed the hint of something brewing in her mind.

"What about Jess?" she asked suddenly.

"What about him?" I asked uncomfortably, glancing up at Jess.

"Make _him_ go," she said, a huge smile on her face.

"Make me go where?" Jess asked.

"Go pour coffee," Mom commanded, and then leaned towards me as he walked off. "Seriously. Make Jess go. He's sarcastic and hates my mother. Slap some fake boobs on him, she won't know the difference."

"No!" I exclaimed, trying desperately not to laugh. "She asked for you."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know Jess is here."

"She hates Jess," I reminded her.

"That's true," Mom conceded, "but she said she wanted to meet the baby's dad, right?"

"That was nine months ago, Mom." I knew that argument wasn't going to work. Mom knew it too, and rolled her eyes.

"Rory, if they wanted to meet him nine months ago, they'll want to meet him now. Seriously. Make him go!"

"Okay," I said finally, watching as Jess stood behind the counter with Luke. They were muttering to each other and watching our table. They were also both smiling. I'd never seen them look so happy.

Boy, it was gonna be fun breaking the news about dinner.

* * *

After giving Jessica a bath in the sink, I changed her into some nightclothes and laid her in her crib. She watched me from between the bars as I sat on my bed, waiting for her to sleep. After a second, she let out a whimper.

"Time for bed," I said softly.

She let out another whimper, and then started crying.

"Oh, baby," I said, standing up so I could reach a hand into the crib. "It's time to sleep now, okay?"

She just kept crying, getting steadily louder. I could practically hear Mom saying, "Told you so," in my ear.

"It's okay, baby," I said, rubbing Jessica's stomach. "Time to sleep now. Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

She threw her arms in the air, her hands balled into fists. She let out the loudest cry yet and kicked her feet. I just kept rubbing her stomach. She was fed, she'd been burped, she'd been bathed and changed, and so the last thing she could want is sleep. I'd read that sometimes babies cried because they were tired and just didn't want to go to sleep. Obviously, Jessica had inherited the Gilmore trait of late nights, and was just trying to stay up late on this, the latest of nights.

"Oh, Jessi, listen," I said, using the nickname for the first time, "I promise that when you get old enough, you can stay up until midnight and watch the ball drop. Until then, you need to sleep."

Jessica kicked her feet again and threw her hands in the air. She let out another loud cry, and then it turned into a yawn, she rubbed her hands on her cheeks, and then turned her head to the side and started to sleep.

I sighed, as quietly as possible, and tiptoed out of the room. I walked into the living room to find Jess sitting in the middle of the couch, the remote in his hand, looking bored. I sighed as I walked over to him, and he looked up at me and smiled.

"Hey. Tough night?"

"Sorta," I said, sitting next to him. "She just kinda suddenly started to sleep."

"Huh. Well, nothing to complain about."

"True," I nodded. I glanced at the TV and saw that Jess was watching Dick Clark. No wonder he was bored. I reached over and stole the remote from him. "So," I asked, starting to channel-surf, "where's Mom?"

"Oh, uh, she went to Luke's."

"Hmm," I nodded. She'd been at Luke's a lot lately. "Ooh, _Corrina Corrina_!" I exclaimed, stopping at TBS and throwing the remote down. "This must be their New Year's Eve movie marathon."

"Uh-huh," Jess said simply. I glanced at him quickly and smiled, before turning to the movie and watching.

When the first commercial came on, I decided to bite the bullet and tell Jess the wonderful news about dinner. I turned to him, only to realize that he'd been staring at me.

"What?" I asked, blushing.

"Nothing," he said, his little crooked smile on his face.

I decided to ignore him and plunge right in. "Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?"

He looked a little surprised. "I don't know. I thought I was gonna hang out here with you guys."

"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "No, instead, you get to hang out with us...at my grandparents' house! For dinner!" I smiled a huge fake grin, and hoped he'd agree.

He looked a little conflicted, and then a little sick. "Really?" he asked. "Your grandmother doesn't mind me coming over?"

"Well," I said, avoiding his eyes. "She doesn't actually know you're coming."

"Rory, no," he said.

"Well, she wanted me and Mom and Jessi to come, but Mom doesn't wanna come, and they wanted to meet you anyway...although, they don't know it's you, but they do wanna meet you...and 'cause you're, you know, Jessi's dad now, they at least have to tolerate you, like they do my dad, 'cause you're her dad...but if you don't wanna go, you don't have to. I'll just tell them that Mom couldn't make it, and they don't even have to know about you." I sighed and threw myself against the back of the couch.

Jess was silent for a while. I looked up after a minute, afraid he was going to sprint out of the house as quickly as possible, but I could see a small smile glinting in his eyes.

"Jess?" I asked, ready for him to speak.

"I'd forgotten about your rambles," he said.

"Yeah, well, Gilmore trait," I said quickly, ready for an answer.

"Yes, I'll go. I mean, might as well get the worst over with, huh?"

I grinned and threw my arms around his neck. "Thanks so much!"

"No problem," he said as I disentangled myself. "But did you call Jessica Jessi?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's only like the second time I've used it. What do you think?"

"I think you shouldn't've named her after me."

"Well, it's too late now," I said, defensively, feeling a little pissed off that he was dissing my name choice. I mean, where had he been during the pregnancy?

"Hey, it's okay," he said. "I mean, it's a nice name."

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Let's just watch the movie, okay?" I tucked myself practically into the arm, wanting to not be around Jess right now. After a few minutes, Jess's hand suddenly reached out. At first I thought he was heading for the remote, and then he laced his fingers through mine. I looked at him, surprised. He smiled, which caused me to smile. Relaxing, I moved myself away from the arm, and started to tuck myself around him. He used his other arm to wrap around me, and we sat and watched _Corrina Corrina_.

* * *

"Wait, where are you going?" Jess asked, sounding a little worried.

I looked up from the road for half a second. "Don't worry," I said, a little confused. "We're just stopping by Wal-Mart. We need to get a few things."

"But, Rory, your grandmother won't be very happy if we're late."

"Oh, it's okay," I said. "We don't have to be there for an hour."

"An hour?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, an hour," I said. "We have a whole list. And it's Wal-Mart. It'll take an hour, believe me." I pulled into a parking space and turned the car off. "Can you get the baby?" I asked, glancing up at him quickly as I tried to gather my purse and the list and my various accouterments. Any kind of outing, whatsoever, now required bags and bags of equipment. Being a new mother was very...time-filling. And expensive.

"Can I stay in the car?" he asked.

"Jess! No!" I finally wrestled the baby bag from its spot wedged under a seat, and pushed open my door. "I'm not doing this by myself. Grab the baby. I'll get a cart." I left the car and only turned back once, to see Jess sighing deeply and forcing himself to get out of his seat. I shook my head. This was the first sign of resistance I'd seen from him. He had been nothing but supportive before this. When Jess walked up to me ten minutes later, though, he looked a little less like he was going through torture.

We settled Jessica and her car seat into the cart and walked into the store.

* * *

"Okay, that's the last thing," Jess said twenty minutes later, unceremoniously dropping two packs of diapers into the cart. "Can we leave now?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing around nervously.

"Sure," I said, starting to push the cart toward the check-out. "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"I just hate Wal-Mart," he said quickly, still glancing around.

I shook my head and laughed. "You're very strange."

"I know," he muttered. "Let's just go, okay?"

"Rory!" Someone called my name from behind me. I glanced quickly at Jess, whose color had drained from his face at the idea of staying here longer, and then looked behind me.

"Iliana!" I yelled back, watching as she ran towards me.

"Hi!" she screamed, running into my arms and wrapping me in a huge hug. "Baby honey, you're looking _thin_!" she said, taking a step back and holding my arms out. "I didn't look this good a week after giving birth." Iliana directed her last sentence at Jess, and gave him a small wink. "How's the kid, sweetie?" she asked me.

"Oh, she's beautiful," I said, glancing at her.

"Sleeping?" Iliana asked, walking over to the cart.

"All the time," I said, smiling.

Iliana turned back to me, her hair swinging around her head and hitting her face. I finally noticed what looked different about her, and called her on it.

"You got highlights!" I exclaimed.

She grinned and reached a hand to touch her hair. "You like it? I adore it. Zano told me he wanted more of a punk family. It was his excuse for trying to get Miles's ear pierced. I was like, uh-uh, no. So I got my hair dyed last night." She picked up one pink strand and showed it to us. "I really love this look. I have since I was sixteen. I originally thought lime-green, but after looking at my wardrobe, it didn't really work." She grinned. "So I decided hot pink and dark black was better."

"Looks good," I said, smiling.

"Thanks, babe. Oh, I wanted to ask you. That big party thing is next Saturday?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Zahn said his band can play. I'm looking forward to it, hon." Iliana wrapped me in another hug, and then turned to Jess. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Iliana, this is–"

She held up a hand. "Jess, right?" she asked, reaching a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you. I better see you Saturday. And _every_ other time I ever see these two girls."

He nodded. "You will. Nice to meet you, Iliana."

She grinned and wrapped him in a hug. "Perfect," she said, letting go. "Well, I'll see you guys later."

"Bye!" I called, waving as she walked off. I turned back to Jess and smiled. "Well. That was fun."

"Uh-huh," he said absentmindedly, staring over my shoulder at something. "Oh, shit," he said quietly, ducking down until he was shorter than I was.

"Jess. What?"

"Nothing. Don't worry. Let's just go." He turned around, still leaning down, and started pushing the cart away. I glanced over to where he'd been looking. All I saw was an older man in a Wal-Mart vest looking our way. He caught my eye, and smiled, and walked over.

"Jess!" he called as he got closer. "I thought that was you!"

Suddenly I realized. This must have been the Wal-Mart Jess had worked at. I grinned. Oh, this could be fun.

Jess, discovered, stood up slowly and turned around. "Dale," he said civilly, a stiff smile pasted on. "How are you?"

"I should be asking that of you!" Dale said, slapping Jess on the shoulder and reaching his other hand to shake Jess's. "Although, I see why you disappeared so quickly," he said, winking at me and smiling at Jessica. "Been pretty busy?"

"Yeah," Jess said, practically squirming. He was so uncomfortable, and I was so loving it.

"Thinkin' about coming back?" Dale asked. Jess's fake smile faltered, but remained. "Not really," he said.

"You should," Dale said. "Forklift hasn't been the same."

"Rory, we should really go now," Jess said desperately, looking at me.

"Yeah, you're right," I said. I smiled at Dale. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Dale said, watching as we started to leave.

As Jess practically speed-walked to the front of the store, he leaned toward me and said, "Now you see why I didn't wanna come here."

"Aw," I said, trying desperately not to laugh. "I think it's cute. They miss you. And the–" at that point I burst into giggles, unable to stand it anymore–"forklift misses you too."

* * *

The door swung open and Grandma smiled as she saw me. "Hello, Rory," she said, and then she noticed Jess standing behind me and her smile dropped. "Where's your mother?" she asked, looking back at me.

"Oh, Mom?" I asked, glancing behind me where Jess was holding the empty car seat. "Um, she was busy. But she sent Jess in her place." I used my head to gesture at him, as my arms were full of Jessica.

"Oh. Well." Grandma forced a smile. "Come in." We followed her inside, and the maid took Jess's coat and tried to take the car seat, but Jess kept a stubborn grip on it. Grandma watched as they tugged back and forth on it, and finally yelled, "Oh, for heaven's sake! Give her the thing!" Jess finally let go, and the maid, satisfied, smiled as she set the car seat underneath the coat rack.

Trying to break the awkward silence that suddenly came over us, I said, "So, where's Grandpa?"

"He's in his study. He should be along soon. Rory, may I speak with you?" Grandma responded practically in one breath. She shot a glance at Jess and then added pointedly, "Privately?"

I handed Jessica to her father and directed him to the living room, and then followed Grandma into the dining room.

"Rory, what is _he_ doing here?" she asked, dropping the words so sharply I felt as if they might cut me.

"_He_, Grandma," I said, feeling a little rude, "is here because _he_ is the father, and you wanted to meet _him_."

Grandma hardly noticed that I was showing her exactly how rude she was, and instead focused on the content of what I'd said.

"He's the father?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," I said. "You met him only a few weeks before I told you I was pregnant. I certainly didn't find anyone new in that time. God," I continued, even though part of me was telling me I shouldn't, "I didn't just _jump_ into bed with the first guy I met, Grandma. I mean, I love Jess. And–"

"You love him?" Grandma interrupted.

"Yes," I said strongly. "I do. And he loves me."

Grandma scoffed. "What kind of man leaves the woman he loves while she's pregnant, and doesn't show up until after the birth?"

Oh, right. They never knew that he never knew. I sighed. "He didn't know, Grandma. I didn't tell him. Luke finally told him when I was in the hospital. That's why he's here now. He hates the fact that he wasn't there for me."

"Oh," Grandma said, softening a little. "Well, all right then. Perhaps he's not all bad."

"No, he's not," I said, smiling. "Shall we go back in?"

"All right," Grandma said.

When we entered the living room, I saw that Jessica had transferred arms, and Grandpa was now cooing into her face while Jess watched from an adjacent chair, a slight smirk on his face.

"Hey, Grandpa," I greeted him, walking over to give him a hug around the shoulders, so he could still hold on to Jessica.

"Hello, Rory," he said, happily. "Your daughter is extremely advanced. She's smiled at me once already," he informed me proudly. I smiled and glanced quickly at Jess, who shrugged and said, "I tried to tell him it was just gas."

"Oh, nonsense," Grandpa said. "This baby was born during her mother's first year at Yale. She got to hear all of the wonderful academic discussions her mother took part in while in the womb! She'll be talking before long."

"Richard, stop hogging the baby and hand her to me," Grandma commanded, holding out her arms.

"Emily, wait your turn. My great-granddaughter and I are bonding." Grandpa glanced up at me, and continued, "Do you think Jessica might enjoy a signed first-edition Hemingway?"

"I think her father might," Jess spoke up. I looked towards him and smiled. I loved hearing him say that word about himself. It made it all more real, and it made him seem like he was really going to stay.

Grandpa looked sharply at Jess. "Young man, you enjoy Hemingway's work?"

"Much more than Rory does," he responded, looking at me.

"Well." Grandpa handed Jessica to Grandma and stood up. "Follow me, then."

Jess hopped up, ready to please, and followed Grandpa out of the room. I watched them walk away for a second, and then sat on the couch next to Grandma, who was rocking Jessica softly in her arms.

"Oh," she murmured, watching as Jessica's eyelids got heavier. "It's been so long since I've held a baby." She looked up at me. "You were the last one. It was very rare I got to hold you, actually. Your mother was very protective. She let me hold you in the presence of others, when I'd told her not to make a scene. But when it was just us..." Grandma shook her head. "I was devastated when you left. I was so looking forward to when you were mobile, and able to allow me to hold you." Grandma smiled a sad smile, and handed the now sleeping Jessica back to me. "I never held Lorelai enough," she said as she watched us. "Hold her often, okay?"

I nodded, struck by how much Grandma had revealed to me. I held Jessica closer to my body and said, "Of course."

"Good," Grandma said, standing abruptly as Jess and Grandpa entered the room, obviously in the middle of a conversation.

"I feel like they're too sacred to write on."

"That's true, they are," Grandpa agreed. "But you can still read them."

"No," Jess shook his head. "I have to write notes when I read."

"You can write notes on a separate paper," Grandpa pointed out.

"It's better if you already have the material in front of you," Jess pointed out.

"True." Grandpa nodded, and then turned to us with a smile. "I like him," he said to me, pointing at Jess.

"Me, too." I exchanged a look with Jess, who looked satisfied with himself for getting through a conversation with one of my grandparents and not fighting.

"I'm going to check on dinner," Grandma said, walking quickly from the room. Jess sat next to me and softly touched Jessica's cheek with his forefinger. Grandpa looked at us and said, "Do you have living plans?"

"Um," I started, eloquently, and glanced at Jess. "Not really," I answered, turning back to Grandpa. "Right now Jess is living on our couch."

"Hmm." Grandpa looked sternly at us. "You can't raise a child sleeping on the couch."

"That's true," Jess agreed. "We're working on figuring something out."

Grandma reappeared at just that moment, saving us from any other questions, and announced that dinner was served.

* * *

I didn't realize it until later, but Grandma watched me all night. She watched my interaction with both Jess and Jessica. She noticed how I held Jessica with ease, smiled when I talked about her, and tried to keep my eyes on her as much as possible.

Grandma also noticed how I tensed when Jess got near me, forced smiled when I looked at him, and steered the conversation away from him.

Grandma noticed everything, and as we were leaving, Jess carrying Jessica in her car seat, Grandma grabbed my arm and steered me into another room again, this time the living room.  
"Why did you wait so long to tell him?" she asked.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Jess. Why did you wait so long to tell him you were pregnant?"

"I...I don't know," I said. "I thought it would ruin his life, I guess, and I didn't want to do that."

"Really?" Grandma asked. "Are you sure it's not because you weren't sure whether you wanted him to be involved? Are you sure it's not because you weren't sure if you wanted to see him ever again? Are you sure it's not because you don't love him?"

I stared at her, shocked. "I…Yes, I am sure!" I yelled. "I didn't tell him because he was so much better than this! He was–is–so much better than my dad! He deserves a better life!"

Grandma just stared at me. "Okay," she said quietly. "We'll be out of town for two weeks. We'll see you when we return." She turned and stalked out of the room, leaving me standing there, alone.

* * *

I made Jess drive home, and I sat in the backseat, one finger wrapped in Jessica's hand.

Was Grandma right?

I was thinking back over the night, realizing I'd sat as far away from Jess as I could, I'd avoided his eye contact. I'd tensed when he'd walked over to take Jessi.

Why?

I _did_ love him. I knew I did. I felt the same way I had for two years.

And then it hit me.

I was acting just like I had that first year. I was acting like I _couldn't_ love him, like it was wrong. I was acting like I had when I'd dated Dean.

But I wasn't dating anyone. I hadn't dated anyone since Jess. I'd just had his baby for Christ's sake!

And then I gasped.

"What is it?" Jess asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

"Nothing," I said quickly.

But it wasn't nothing.

I was subconsciously punishing myself. I was punishing myself for feeling I didn't think I should have, even if I did love Jess. And it was ruining our relationship, or what our relationship could be.

When we got to the house, I ran inside with Jessica as quickly as I could, leaving Jess outside. I found Mom sitting on the couch and I put Jessica in her car seat on the coffee table.

"Can you take her somewhere? Please?" I asked, feeling desperate.

"Sure, honey," she said, standing up quickly and picking Jessica up. "We'll go visit Sookie and Davey." As she passed me, she stopped, and whispered, "How long?"

I shrugged. "An hour? Maybe two."

"Okay," she checked her watch. "We'll be back at 11:30. That gives you an hour and a half." She smiled at me, and waved as she passed Jess in the entranceway.

He watched as she grabbed a coat and left, and then turned to me. "Where's she going?"

"To see Sookie," I said. "Mom said we needed a break."

"I could have taken her," he said.

"That's okay," I said. "Sookie's been dying to see her. And Mom's been dying to see Davey. So…."

"Okay." He nodded. "Um," he said after a minute, "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay."

He nodded again, and then took his jacket off. As I sat on the couch, my own coat still on, he walked past me and picked up the bag he was living out of. "Just getting clothes," he said, holding them so I could see.

"Okay," I said again.

He turned around and headed upstairs.

As I sat on the couch, getting steadily warmer in my winter coat, a plan formulated in my mind. Almost entirely sure I was completely insane, I stood up and quickly shed m y coat and shoes. I heard the shower running upstairs, and that's where I ran.

Jess left the door half-open when he showered, letting the steam out, so it was easy enough to edge my way in. Once in, however, I had to try desperately to stay there. I stood there, one foot trying to go forward and one staying planted, and had a vigorous internal debate. Even Paris would be proud of my impressive WPM. I suddenly and quickly undressed, one step closer to completing the plan.

I watched the unmoving dark red shower curtain, mentally going over the reasons I didn't want to do this. For instance, I hated my post-baby body, with angry red stretch marks snaking across my abdomen and new, larger breasts. I was also at least two sizes larger, and it bothered me, especially considering what I was about to do.

"People try to put d-d-down," I heard Jess singing.

I had to keep from laughing.

"Just because we get around."

And yet...it was a new quirk I was learning about. Jess sang in the shower.

"Things they do look awful c-c-cold."

That was it. I steeled my nerves, pushed aside the shower curtain, and stepped in.

I hope I die before I get old.

* * *

When Mom came back with Jessica, I was lying on my bed, trying to figure out a schedule for my new life, and Jess was on the couch, reading Please Kill Me for what had to be the twentieth time.

There was absolutely no sign that our relationship had changed.

But the next morning, and the next few mornings, it became apparent to everyone that we were closer than ever. We were acting just like we had in high school, during those few precious weeks we were really happy: we were making out in the street, walking with our arms entangled in each other, and sitting on benches and reading each other's books. The difference of course, was that we had a baby with us almost everywhere we went.

It was practically heaven.

* * *

Wednesday night, the fourth night of our new relationship, I was lying on my bed, watching as Jessica sighed and moved her arm. I heard my door inch open, and looked up to see Jess standing there.

"Hey," I said, smiling. "Come on over."

He lay down next to me, wrapping one arm over me.

"She looks so peaceful," he said after a minute.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Amazing that she has us as parents."

I felt Jess's arms tighten around me, and he pressed his lips into my neck for a minute.

"I went to see my dad," he said. "He showed up at the diner—you saw him, he was there the day after the party."

"Oh," I said, feeling a tightness in my chest. That had been a bad day, the day of our fight.

"I didn't know who he was," he continued. "But he left his wallet, and Luke found it, and went to talk to him. I don't know what Luke said, but Jimmy showed up at the diner later that night. He told me who he was, I offered him old coffee, and then we kinda sat in the dark for a while. I was listening to Ziggy Stardust, and we mouthed along to the end of Suffragette City, and then he must have freaked and left. And then," he sighed, "Luke and I got in a fight."

I found Jess's hand with my own and squeezed it.

"It was bad, Rory. We both yelled things we regret, I know. He yelled at me for failing school and dropping out, and then he kicked me out." Jess was silent for a minute. "I still feel like shit for disappointing him," he said softly.

I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there, letting Jess collect his thoughts. After a minute, he let out a shaky breath and continued.

"The next day you saw me on the bus. The next thing I knew, I was in California."

"How'd that go?" I asked, trying desperately to get him to feel better.

"Okay," he said, slowly. "My dad reads and listens to music just like I do. It's amazing how much we have in common."

"How long were you there?"

"A while. I called you on graduation from California. You were halfway through Europe before I left."

I waited until I knew he was finished, and then asked, "Did I ever tell you how I found out I was pregnant?"

"No."

"Well, I was right in the middle of exams, and so I was extremely exhausted. I was at Grandma's house—just leaving, actually—and Mom was complaining and pacing in the driveway, and then everything went sideways and then black and I guess I fainted."

Jess let out a soft sigh onto my neck and rubbed my arm.

"The doctor told me I fainted from dehydration and lack of folic acid. He berated me and told me I was pregnant. My dad showed up, too, when I was in the hospital, and he stayed, and even went with Mom and me to Europe.

"Really?" Jess asked. "Where is he now?"

I sighed, and let myself really sink into Jess's embrace. "He cheated on Sherry, his new wife. And then he showed up here. Sherry called Mom, Mom freaked out, and he hasn't come back. Actually, I talked to him when Jessica was born. I basically told him not to come, and…he didn't."

"Huh. Sorry, kid," he said, talking to Jessica. "Looks like you've got 2 non-existent grandfathers."

An expression crossed Jessi's sleeping face, like she was troubled. But then she sighed, and was peaceful again.

"Promise me you'll never be non-existent," I whispered to Jess, clutching his hand to my stomach and keeping my eyes clasped shut.

He sat up a little, and forced me to roll on my back so that when I opened my eyes, I was looking right at him.

"I promise," he said slowly and clearly, "that I will always, _always_, be here for you. For both of you."

I smiled, tears involuntarily springing to my eyes. He smiled back and caressed my cheek with one hand, before leaning down and kissing me.

* * *

Suddenly, it was Saturday again, and our house was in a frenzy. Jess and I had gone shopping for baby dress-up clothes the day before, and they were spread out all over my bed, ready for us to struggle to fit the baby in them, and then throw them on the ground and declare she had no clothes.

Jess was holding her, pacing back and forth in front of my bed, and bouncing her, hoping to keep her satisfied, because after only three outfits, she was already fed up with clothes. Jess, who hated to hear her cry, was practically ready to let her go naked, dressed only in the latest fashionable Huggies, but I pointed out to him that she'd still be crying then, but only because she'd be freezing to death.

He sighed. "Fine. But can you try to be a little gentler with her?"

I was getting fed up as well, but instead of having too many clothes, I had too little. Jess just kept getting on my nerves, so I threw down my latest choice for a baby outfit and said, "Fine. You do it," and left.

When I wandered upstairs, Mom was dancing around to the Go-Gos' "Head Over Heels", half-naked, apparently having trouble with her own wardrobe.

"Hey, babe," she said during the instrumental break, trying to match the claps and failing miserably. "Damn! I still can't get it." She finally gave up, and smiled at me. "What's going on?"

"I can't find clothes," I said, flopping onto her bed, and watching as she dove into her closet and returned fully and impeccably dressed, managing to make a sweater-vest look cute, no less.

"Oh, babe. I fully understand," she nodded, sitting next to me to put on shoes. "You're in that horribly awkward phase where nothing fits." She shrugged. "It happens."

"Yeah?" I asked, sitting up as she stood from the bed. "What'd you do?"

"I joined a gym," she said, matter-of-factly.

I snorted. "And did you go?"

She echoed my laugh. "Oh, no, I was way too fat." She smiled, and kissed my forehead quickly. "Gotta go," she said, grabbing her coat from the bed behind me and walking out of the room. I stood and followed her.

"Where?" I asked, as she made a quick detour to the bathroom to check her make-up.

"Firelight festival business, babe. Secret stuff." She winked at me in the mirror, and then headed for the stairs. When I started to follow her, she turned around and said, "Secret to you, Rory. You, the hooligan, and the baby are supposed to stay here 'til five. We'll pick you up, I promise."

I sighed, but stopped following her. She grinned and flew down the stairs and out the door. Still mad at Jess, I made my way back into her room, where I collapsed on the bed again, amidst piles of clothing—none of which I could fit in.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Jess was whispering my name. He was carrying Jessica, and because he was leaning over me, she reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair, really waking me up.

"I'm up," I yelled, sitting up suddenly, and hitting Jess's forehead with my own.

"Ow," he said softly, looking as if he wanted to touch it but couldn't because he was holding Jessica. I reached my own hand up to my head and touched it gingerly, and then dropped it.

"What do you want?" I asked Jess, still annoyed with him—even though I didn't remember why anymore.

"I dressed Jessi," he said, angling her so I could see. She was in the prettiest outfit, in my opinion, and her own inherent cuteness just multiplied the outfit's adorability.

"Aw," I said, reaching to trace the lace around the hem of the dress. I looked up at Jess and smiled. "You knew she'd break me, didn't you?"

He grinned, and sat next to me. "I was counting on it," he admitted.

"Well, it worked." I stood, and reached down to get Jessi. "Now it's time for Mommy and Daddy to get dressed."

Jess handed the baby to me, and then stood up next to us. "So weird," he muttered.

"I know," I said, knowing that he was referring to our new titles. "But it's true."

"Yep." Jess must have realized he looked worried, because he looked at me and smiled. "Wouldn't trade it for the world."

I knew he didn't believe that. Yet. I knew he was still trying to make up for running away and leaving me pregnant, albeit unknowingly.

But I appreciated his trying, and so I kissed him.

* * *

Mom picked us up, right at five, with a horse-drawn carriage in front of the house. I smiled, remembering the last—and only—time I'd ridden in a horse-drawn carriage, with Jess. He helped situate Jessi and me in the seat, before hopping in with us. We slowly drove through town, and finally pulled up next to the gazebo, where two thrones, a baby bed on a pedestal, and an unbelievable amount of presents awaited us. I know I was looking at everything with a shocked expression on my face, because Mom snapped tons of pictures.

Luke took the baby from me, and settled her gently in the bed, before Jess took my hand and we sat on our thrones. Mom draped a feather boa around Jess's neck, and gave me my "Happy Birthday!" tiara, "because Jessica can't wear it yet," she said. I felt like a princess…and later, Mom told me that's what I was supposed to feel like, a princess, because according to the town, I am one.

The rest of the town was fairly normal according to Firelight Festival standards: there were large papier-mâché stars everywhere, an un-lit bonfire in the middle of the square, and plenty of tables boasting Founder's Day Punch. I looked at Jess, who just shook his head and mouthed at me, "Insane town rituals."

I laughed, and watched the first band finishing setting up on the stage directly across from the gazebo. It was Lane's band, The Whoevers, with their newly reinstated fourth member, Dave. They performed a not-very-diverse selection, taking most of their songs from punk bands of the same caliber as The Clash and The Sex Pistols. When Taylor complained, they abruptly left the stage, and Iliana's husband's band came on. At first they started playing something that sounded vaguely 50s, and Zano, Iliana's husband, was the star of the song with his bass. But then it ended up being a Clash song—"Julie's Been Working For The Drug Squad"—and Taylor started complaining again, much to the delight of Jess and Luke, who were laughing the entire time.

Then the band started playing a Billy Joel song—"It's Still Rock and Roll to Me"—and Jess shut up, fast. He hates Billy Joel.

I started unwrapping presents, and talking to Lane and Dave, who'd come over as soon as The Whoevers had vacated the stage. Lane had an opinion on every present, and knew who had sent each one. Eventually, Zano's band took a break, too, and Iliana, who had been the faithful rock star wife, trying to mosh at the bottom of the stage, joined us, dragging along Miles and Zano.

Kirk, who was playing DJ for the night, started to play "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" from the movie _Gigi_. Mom rushed over and started laughingly reminding me of when I debuted, two years before, and told me that song was playing while I fan-danced. She tried to explain to the small crowd gathered around my throne about fan-dancing and debuting, but she was laughing too hard, so she rushed off again, where I saw her accept another cup of Founder's Day Punch from Luke.

"Too much punch," I explained to my friends. "That stuff's deadly."

Lane and Dave nodded knowingly, Zano and Iliana exchanged glances, and Jess just raised his eyebrows at me, which clearly said, "You are _so_ telling me about fan-dancing when we get home."

Home. We were currently, well, we were sort of living in the same house. It seemed more like Jess was a guest, though. I knew Jess was always welcome in Luke's apartment, and even had his own bed still. I wondered if maybe Jess could move back in with Luke when I went back to school, and I could stay with Mom. We could, I suppose, switch Jessi back and forth…. Such as, when I had an early class the next day, Jess could take her for the night. And he could work, to save up for an apartment for both of us, and I could go to school, to further my education, and Jessica could stay with both of her parents, and be well-adjusted. Except for the fact that her parents wouldn't live together. At least for a while. But hopefully we could move in together by the time she got old enough to know.

Yes, that's what we would do.

"Um, earth to Rory!" Iliana called, waving a hand in front of my face. I snapped to.

"Oh, sorry," I said, picking up my next present.

"That's from Andrew," Lane told me, as I started to unwrap it.

"So, what were you thinking about?" Iliana asked me, folding her arms across her chest and grinning at me.

"Oh, nothing," I said, with a quick glance at Jess, who was leaning towards me, his arms on his knees as he watched me open presents.

Iliana watched this, and her grin grew even wider. "Oh, nothing," she repeated suggestively, nudging Zano, who was closest to her, in the ribs.

"Quit nudging me, Il, I saw the look," Zano complained, the first time I'd ever heard him speak. I watched as he picked up Miles and angled him so he was between his parents. Iliana just kept grinning. She squeezed up close to me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and leaned over and whispered, "You so love him, don't you?"

I nodded as she pulled away, and she squealed. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, looking between me and Jess quickly, before finally settling her gaze on Jessica. "Miles, come look at the baby," she said, gesturing behind her at her husband, who obediently carried their son over to look at Jessi. Lane and Dave squeezed in, too, and pretty soon they were all cooing over her.

Jess stood up, walked around the group, and held a hand out to me. "Let's dance," he said simply, surprising me to no end.

"Okay," I said, taking his hand and allowing him to lead me to the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage. Kirk was off to the side of the floor, currently playing John Mayer's "Daughters". Jess took me in his arms, and we slowly swayed to the music.

"This is nice," I said quietly, my head on his shoulder.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed. "We should do this more often."

"I suppose," I said softly. "Maybe without the Firelight Festival."

"Or the entire town."

"Or music," I said. "Just being together is enough for me."

Jess leaned back a little, so he could look at me, and then shook his head and kissed me softly on the lips. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not!" I protested, even as I realized I was, a little.

"You so are, even if you don't know it." He smirked. "Rory, you're the kind of girl who wants to be swept off her feet. Romantic dinners, slow dances in the living room, flowers and candy galore, maybe even a serenade or two. I know you. I know the way you think. I've seen you watch movies, read books, and I know what you're wishing. You're wishing for a Prince Charming of your own."

"No, I'm not," I protested, a little more weakly this time, and blushed, ducking my head into his shoulder.

"Yes, you are!" Jess slightly chuckled, and then sighed and stopped dancing. "Listen, Rory, I'm really sorry I wasn't here. But I promise to be here, forever, for as long as you want me. I will not run away in a year, five years, eighteen. I will not decide one day that you will be fine without me and take off. And I will certainly not do what I did last year and just leave one day, hoping you're not on the bus. I'm taking responsibility for what I've done, and I'm letting you know that I love you too much to go away again. I never should have done it in the first place." Jess picked up my hands and started dancing again. "Capisce?"

I was shocked—in a good way—for what had to be the thousandth time since Jess had suddenly shown up in my hospital room. I knew I had tears in my eyes, but all I could do was lean my head on his shoulder and keep swaying.

"Yeah," I answered softly. "Capisce."

"Good," he said, with a soft smile in his voice. "Daughters" came to an end, and "Pink" by Aerosmith started playing. Mom suddenly came flying onto the dance floor, and didn't stop until she was on the stage, next to the microphone.

"Oh, no," I said, knowing that Mom had _way_ too much Founder's Day Punch in her for this to end well.

"Okay, listen up people!" she screamed into the microphone, holding her arms above her head, one holding a cup of punch. "This guy," she continued, pointing directly at Kirk, "has been DJ for too long, and now he's playing Aerosmith? What? This is my granddaughter's—" she suddenly clutched her heart. "Oy. I just said granddaughter." She laughed. "I'm a grandmother! Ha! But anyway," she said, getting 'serious' again, "this is my granddaughter's belated-birthday-welcome-to-the-world party, and I will be having absolutely _no_ Aerosmith. So, bands, get your asses on stage!" She started to exit, but then decided to add, "Thank you very much," in her best Andy Kaufman impression.

I just looked at Jess and laughed, before saying "Come on," and leading him back to our thrones, holding his hand the entire time.

* * *

We didn't make it home until two in the morning, at which point I sent Mom to her room to sleep it off and took Jess with me into my room. For the first time, ever, we slept together, the whole night through, with our daughter in her crib next to us.

I still wasn't sure where we would live, if we would live together or not, whether we would get married, and how well-adjusted our daughter could grow up to be, being our daughter.

But I was happy. Jess was here to stay. And, as Scarlett O'Hara says, "Tomorrow is another day."


End file.
